To Heal The Petals
by TheOneWithAQuill
Summary: When Giselle Potter is left broken, engulfed in the remnants of the horrid events after the 5th year, a certain Professor is assigned to aid her in her battle with both-Voldemort and her own self. Will the Professor be able to Heal a battered soul, fighting against his own prejudices and innate darkness? (Mentor/guardian Snape.) Rated M for mentions of abuse and rape.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is NOT a SLASH. So don't expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

Do not read if not comfortable with the themes. It is not my intention in the least to make anybody uncomfortable.

Enjoy the story and tell me how you find it!

**Chapter 1: Dark As The Night Sky**

It was not everyday that it rained cats and dogs in Scotland, and definitely not in the Wizarding World for that matter.

But that December morning, the sky was weeping and the tears were what the Earth was graced with. The clouds were thundering in mourning, aggrieved with the plight of one of the Heaven's child...

The sky had cried all tears as her eyes were still dry, unnaturally so. No, not even glassy. They were dry, as dry as the land under a drought spell; as miserable as a little bud plucked from the stem to decorate a bouquet.

If the bathroom had any light, Giselle's emerald eyes were unable to make out. The throbbing in her head was blinding as it was, now coupled with a similar ache on her forearm, where the Dark Mark was forcefully carved. Her fiery red hair fell on her face as she leant down to pick the piece of the broken mirror from the floor.

How morbid to think that the worshipped Goddess of the Light Side was bearing the stain of the Dark. The searing pain reached her soul, tinting it...

The Girl Who Lived was all but light, anymore.

Her very blood would reek of darkness now. As the shining piece pressed against her skin tore the soft flesh, a stream of blood dripped down her arm.

Two cuts more and it would be over—forever.

"Giselle, how long is it gonna take?" Parwati Patil called from outside the shared bathroom of the girls dormitory that was occupied by four of them.

The girl was fuming but her anger was contained well. It had been an hour since Giselle had been occupying the bathroom. Hardly fifteen minutes were left before breakfast and two girls still had to do their business.

She knocked again but to no avail. Looking back at her best friend, Lavender, she rolled her eyes and mouthed some insult. Lavender snickered at her, still lying lazily on her bed. She was not bothering herself with asking Giselle out—Parwati could invest her energy into that.

When Hermione came in the dorm, she was met with a sour tirade by her dorm mate.

"Ask your friend to come out, will you?" Parwat exploded.

Hermione glanced at the bathroom door still locked, then at Giselle's empty bed.

"She is still inside?" Hermione asked. When Parwati rolled her eyes at her, a look of horror covered the bushy-haired's face. It had been an hour since Giselle was in there. Right after using thr bathroom to herself, Hermione had seen her going in. She had gone to the library right after, and it had been an hour since... Her friend was not attending to any usual business for sure.

She ignored Parwati and strode to the locked door, knocking furiously.

"Giselle! Giselle, open the door!" She shouted, now her fear visible. "Open or I'll have to unlock it with my wand!"

But when no answer came, Hermione took her wand out.

"Really, Hermione?" Lavender drawled. "Fine, she sucks and all, but respect her privacy, you two."

But Parwati seemed to have no objection with the intrusion, she remained quiet.

Paying no heed to the other girl, Hermione tapped her wand on the knob and muttered a desperate _Alohomora_.

She quickly pushed open the door and ran inside, muttering prayers.

"Giselle!" Her scream must have been heard through the next two dormitories, too.

An unmoving body of a sixteen-year-old laid on the floor, a stream of blood originating from her wrist marked the floor. The weapon, a broken piece of mirror was lying tossed near her feet, as were the other shattered pieces.

If Hermione thought Voldemort's return was the greatest shock to her, she didn't know what to call the sight she was met with.

Ronald Weasley never liked the sterile smell of the Hospital Wing. His experiences at the place had not been too pleasant to create a better image of the infirmary in his mind. It was another such experience which would always remain in his head whenever he'd remember the place.

Behind one of the green screens, on the usual bed she always occupied, Giselle was lying, unconscious.

Hermione's sobs had not quietened since finding their friend in the bathroom. He, himself wanted to cry, to scream! To shake his friend up and even smack her for trying something so wretched! But before that, he'd himself rummage through her belongings to get rid of any sharp objects that she might have.

Giselle had been depressed and it was no secret. It was evident in the very way her blank eyes stared in the space, it was pretty evident. In the way she conducted herself or failed to conduct herself, it was visible to any eye. She had depression and PTSD. Hermione had explained to him what PTSD was. Giselle had every reason to have it.

"I shouldn't have gone to the library! I should have waited for her! I shouldn't have left her alone, Ron!" Hermione was crying hysterically. "It was all my fault, all my fault!"

Her face was covered with her hands and shoulders shook with every sob.

Ron placed his arm around her, "You know it wasn't," was all he said in a soft voice.

_If anybody's, it is that wretched monster's fault! His deeds!_

If Giselle wouldn't, he would love to kill the bastard himself! Make him beg for mercy but kill him painfully. A rage ignited within him, hot anger rushed through his veins.

"Poppy, how's she?" Professor McGonsgall was the last person to be seen so disoriented. But she apparently was. Followed by the Headmaster and the infamous Head of Slytherin, Snape, she entered the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore had lost his usual twinkle of his eyes. He stood silently by the doorway. Snape was still expressionless. A scar, from his right temple down to his cheekbone was fading, but yet visible, reminded of the events of the last month.

When Madam Pomphrey came out from behind the screen, she had a look of utter horror written on her face.

"She's fine, isn't she?" Ron was the first to voice that question.

"I don't know how to say this, Albus," she said to the Headmaster, wringing her hands nervously.

Hermione swallowed and looked at the Headmaster's own nervous expressions.

"Say, Poppy, whatever it is," he said, his voice unexpectedly usual. The haste on the other two professors' faces was quite visible, though.

"When she was rescued and brought here, I took all the measures to avoid this...situation, abiding the protocol," the medi-witch started. "I have her all the potions needed-"

"Stop twisting the words and come to the point, woman!" Snape growled impatiently.

"Severus, please," Dumbledore whispered quietly.

"Go on, Poppy," McGonagall said.

"I don't know how the potions didn't work...they were the strongest I had," she took a deep breath. "Miss Potter is...expecting."

"What the fuck!" Ron cursed loudly.

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Merlin!" 'McGonagall muttered under her breath. "Have mercy on the poor girl."

"But that is not possible!" Snape shrieked in annoyance. "It was I who made the potion, the stock of which I also sent to St. Mungo's. I can assure you that I have received no complaints over it in months. Are you certain to have administered the correct potion to her?"

"Severus, I'm a nurse! It is my bread and butter," the lady huffed. Her anger was expected on being accused of negligence by her colleague, in front ot thr Headmaster and two of the students. "How can I fail at such a-"

"Now, now," Dumbledore interrupted. "We should not digress from the more important issue here. What is done is done. Whose mistake it was can be debated over later. We must deal with the issue at hand."

"But what about Giselle?" Ron said irritably. "How are we going to tell her?!" They were thinking of resorts but what about the impact that the truth would have on her fragile emotional state?

"She knows," the medi-witch said in a low voice. "Although I have put a _Silencio _around her bed for now, she has already known. Perhaps, that was the reason she...tried what she tried."

"Sweet Merlin," McGonagall sighed. "No wonder she attempted to end her life."

"All the more reason to help her out of this," Dumbledore said. He stepped towards the nurse, "Poppy, call whoever can assist you in this from St. Mungo's. Giselle cannot go there but surely we can arrange for the Healers in Hogwarts."

"Albus, you mean..." she whispered and Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, that is what I am implying. This pregnancy needs to be terminated."

Pomphrey looked at McGonagall questioningly, who also nodded. "The poor girl has been through a lot already. There is no need to put more on her plate. We must not forget, we came here primarily after hearing about her suicide attempt. We can all understand her emotional state at the moment."

"But it's a life we are talking about," Madam Pomphrey stated her point with vigour.

"Yes, and I wonder whose life we are referring to," the Headmaster said sternly. "We are saving a life, Poppy—a life that we can and must save."

"But what of the child?" she questioned, disapproving of his opinion.

"The child, yes, we are talking about a child who was put through too much," McGonagall spoke with a power in his voice. "And we cannot expect that child to be taking up a responsibility such as this one, unwillingly."

Madam Pomphrey still looked reluctant towards the idea. But yet, she didn't express her reluctance in words.

"We must hurry up," the Headmaster ordered. "We need your utmost cooperation. "

"This should not go outside," McGongall said, eyeing Ron and Hermione.

Before they could answer, Ron said, "We would never defy Giselle!"

Dumbledore turned to Snape, "Severus, we need your assistance in this."

The Potions Master had not said much in the entire conversation. Even if he had other opinions, he did not express them, unlike Pomphrey. It was anyway rare for him to add onto the discussions not pertaining himself. But after the last month, what he had done, it was only expected of him to keep his point. But whoever thought that Severus Snape had changed because of his act of courage, rescuing the Girl-Who-Lived would be somewhat disappointed on seeing his neutral face, throughout.

"I will prepare the necessary potions, Albus," he said. "I will administer them personally to Potter."

But before Snape could leave, Hermione spoke for the first time. "But isn't it very risky to terminate a pregnancy at het age? She is only sixteen. What if it-"

"That is precisely the reason why the experienced and trained Healers from the most eminent medical institution are being called, Granger," Snape stated bitterly.

With that, he was gone...

"I'll contact St. Mungo's..." Madam Pomphrey said. "Miss Potter should be awake in half an hour or so. But I think the...procedure should be conducted tomorrow."

"Make sure her identity is not exposed," Dumbledore said.

"Madam," Hermione said again, "What about the blood loss? When I found her, she was bleeding profusely."

"I have given her a dose of blood replenishing potion, Miss Granger. Rest assured, she will live," the medi-witch was bitter in her speech. She walked away to her office, muttering something about people doubting her judgements, under her breath.

"I will go and see what the Gryffindors are making of the situation, I'm sure the rumours are all over the place," McGonagall sighed. "It is going to take efforts to calm the students down after the incident."

"I am sure you can handle it, Minerva," the Headmaster said. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, you may stay here with your friend. Although I would like Professor McGonagall to inform her of the course of action we will take."

"I will be back right after talking to your peers, she will regain her conscious till then, I surmise," McGonagall glanced in the direction of the bed but sighed on meeting with the screen, again.

Hermione and Ron eyed the green screen, dreading to face theit friend behind. _How unfair life could be to her! When would she have some peace?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is NOT a SLASH. So don't expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**A/N**: I'm posting first two characters together... 6 of them are already written, please give your much needed reviews so that I know where I need to work.

**Chapter 2: Neither Tears Nor Colours**

"Attention, all of you!" Penelope White, the Gryffindor Prefect clapped loudly to grab everybody's attention. "Is everyone here? I hope there's no one missing as Professor McGobagall has a very important announcement to make."

All the students, young and old assembled in their common room, eagerly eyeing their Head of House.

"It is regarding Giselle, who we just saw being taken to the Hospital Wing after-"

"I will take it from her, Miss White, thank you," McGonagall stepped up. Penelope nodded and stepped in the corner respectfully.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Students," she began, "It is no more a secret, I surmise, as to what went with Miss Potter a few hours ago. Yet, I would rather confirm it—yes, Miss Potter was found injured in the bathroom. But she is in the Hospital Wing right now, safe and sound."

Some relieved sighs were heard from among the students.

"There is no need to panic. But one thing I ask of you is, maintain the House secrecy and decorum over the issue."

McGonagall took a dramatic pause to have a greater impact. Years of teaching had taught her certain knacks.

"It is a known fact that there are many who would wait for a single opportunity to inflict some harm on Miss Potter. So the news should not reach the wrong ears. Though I won't name anyone directly, it is expected of you to possess some common sense."

Some whispers of 'Slytherin' and 'Malfoy' were heard among them. McGonagall knew she was in the right direction. "Any questions?" She didn't expect to see sone hands up. Nevertheless, she took their queries up.

"Yes, Mr. Dampkin?"

"Did Potter...you know...tried to...kill herself?" The boy was hesitant with the words. Some students gasped and some leaned towards each other to whisper.

Ginny Weasley, McGonagall noticed flinched at that, standing in the corner and hardly interested in what she had to say.

Well, there was no hiding from her, not after involving her brother, anyway. She might have even been aware of Potter's depression and PTSD and would soon be trusted with the information of she being pregnant, too.

"What gave the idea, may I ask?" she enquired in her neutral tone.

Dumpkin glanced at Parwati, who bowed her head, getting red in embarrassment.

"Miss Patil," the professor began, resuming her stern voice, "Whatever gave you that impression is absurd. But just to clarify you and all those who are keen on spreading the rumours—no, it was not the case."

The Deputy Headmistress knew that it was not in the best of their interest to hide the truth. But had it not been for Potter, she would have told them the truth.

But people needed to believe in the Girl-Who-Lived. And as Albus said, 'Trust has a power.'

"It was a mere accident. Miss Potter managed to slip on the wet bathroom floor, tried to catch the sink but ended up being struck by one of the sharp ends of the basin in her head-"

"But, Professor, she was bleeding from her hand!" Parwati intruded.

_Oh, for Merlin's sake!_

"Let me finish, Miss Patil, if you please," the professor was getting annoyed by the girl. Though not many students might have been there in the Common Room when her friends took Potter to the Hospital Wing, as it was right before breakfast, the Patil girl was set to foil her well-rehearsed excuse.

"After hurting her head, Potter tried to get up, holding the edge of the full-length mirror on the wall. It was then that the mirror shattered and Miss Potter completely lost her balance, falling down, during which her hand was injured."

McGonagall felt proud of her conviction. All the students looked satisfied. Her story was bought!

"But, Professor," it was Lavender Brown, "we never heard any mirror-"

"Miss Brown," the teacher could only only take so much nonsense at a time. But the pair of them would do anything but stay quiet!

"Miss Granger, who unlocked the door and went inside to retrieve her friend, has reported the presence of a Silencing Charm around the bathroom. Potter must have put it to, let us presume, expel the _noise_ that _others_ would make—for a relaxing shower."

If McGongall had thought that her story was satisfactory enough, she was...mistaken. After her last sentence, many had doubts in their eyes. Hmm...maybe she went too far with the Silencing Charm.

"Well, that was the simple reality," she continued with a more stringent voice, "But if the less-dramatic incidents do not suit your tastes, you can, very well, continue to believe in whatever you feel like. But kindly, do not go about spreading any kind of rumours. As a Gryffindor, I expect unity." _Yes!_ That was the last straw—Gryffindor unity—and each of them, even Patil and Brown—looked determined.

Now she knew that the word would not escape the walls.

But something that still bothered her was the fear that instead of the made-up story, the students should have been told the truth, and should even have gotten a group counselling session by a mind-healer, to eliminate all notions of 'quitting' if anybody was triggered or Merlin-forbid inspired by what Potter actually did.

The professor sighed inwardly.

Protecting Potter was the need of the hour, though. But McGonagall would not ignore her students over anything. She would arrange for such a session soon, if not a group session, she would herself do it one-on-one with them.

She glanced at Penelope White and nodded to herself, thinking of asking her to make a list of students who needed a proper session like that.

But that would have to wait. Her priority at the moment was the girl lying in the Hospital Wing, and to talk to her about...the termination of her unwanted pregnancy.

Ron and Hermione sat right beside the bed on which Giselle laid. She looked paler than usual. Her eyes were closed and at the first glance, she could have been confused with not breathing.

The circles under her eyes were even more prominent, and so was her lighting-bolt scar—which was red, deep red.

"Giselle..." Hermione whispered, keeping a soothing hand on her fiery red hair. "We know you're awake."

She glanced down at her friend's bandaged wrist with a spot of red staining the white fabric.

"Jesus, what did you do!" Hermione mumbled to herself, covering her mouth. She could give anything to just scream and cry. Tears of anger and anxiety filled her eyes. She vaguely noticed when Ron's arm was around her or when Giselle's hand was on hers in a comforting manner.

"Hermione...I'm fine..." the low whisper finally grabbed her attention.

"Oh, Giselle, you-" Hermione shuddered, wiping her eyes, "you-"

"Are you mental!" Ron finished for her. "Are you fucking-"

"Ron!" Hermione kept her hand on his arm. But he was angry enough for that. Depression and all, but who gave her the right to kill them all in the grief of losing her?!

From the very first year in Hogwarts, Ron had put Giselle on the same pedestal as Ginny. She was like a sister—a sister who always sided with him in bunking classes, stealing food from the kitchen, avoiding homework, everything. But now when he thought of that Giselle, it felt like a lifetime away—when she would indulge in activities with him and then laugh about it. Laugh! The new Giselle didn't laugh.

"If you were not on this bed," Ron said, gritting his teeth, "I swear, I would have myself-" But he broke off, never managing to finish his sentence. A lump in his throat was a distraction enough for not talking.

He took a deep breath and tried to control his overflowing emotions.

Giselle turned her head away, not facing towards them anymore. She sighed deeply—they could hear the disappointment in her, so vividly.

The world had started to look a little grey to her. After being rescued, she had probably just forgotten colours. Well, colours were not the only she had forgotten. Scents, smiles—and all things bright were forgotten.

But the only colour she could decipher after very long was red—blood red. When it streamed from her wrist, she had felt a peace overtaking her. Like after enduring pain for too long, the soothing provided by a salve. Death was her salve.

She had inwardly even smiled at thinking of finally getting out of the cage that was life; finally being able to meet her parents and Sirius. But when had ever her life been that easy?

As if being an unloved orphan was not enough, life just kept testing her.

"Why would you do that to us!" Ron almost shrieked. Something moved in her on hearing his pain-staked voice. Maybe, she was selfish... Yes, she was. But in that desperate moment, dying occurred to be the only way out. At that moment when the mind was in the fearful turmoil, selflessness didn't seem a reason enough to stop her.

But perhaps, they didn't know... They didn't know why she... Maybe they think it was because of the kidnapping. Well, it was partially the reason, but not the main cause of it...

"We know why," as if no cue, Hermione said very quietly.

Giselle again turned towards them, questioning them with her emerald eyes. But the abruptness caused her dizziness. It was then that she realised how week she felt. There was a lingering ache in her wrist, a dull one. But her head throbbed more than the hand.

"We know," Hermione held her hand in hers. "And they—Dumbledore and Madam

Pomphrey and McGonagall—they have even a way out for you."

"Hermione!" Ron shushed her. Hermione gasped.

"What way?" Giselle asked with a frown. Every word was a task. "What is...it all about?"

"McGonagall will talk to you about it, just wait," Ron said calmly.

"What I'm trying to say is that we know about it," Hermione said, still holding her hand. "And we care. It is hard for you, harder than we could ever fathom, but just trust us when we say this—we are willing to help you in any way we can. Just give us a chance."

By the end of it tear were freely rolling down her cheeks.

But Giselle's eyes were still dry. Tears are a blessing, they free you. It is in their absence that life starts to feel like a cage without lock. Since the abduction, tears just wouldn't come to her aid.

"Help me?" Giselle could have snorted, but her voice sounded flat and it took a lot of energy to speak. _Help me in what way? What can anyone ever do to make my twisted life a tad bit better after all this?!_

She closed her eyes and took a pause to breathe.

"Nobody can...help."

_Those memories would forever plague my life! _

"Can you...take those memories...away from me?"

"If we could, we would," Hermione sniffled.

"But you can't," her eyes were still shut. "And now...I have another problem to...deal with."

For the first time, she felt fear settling down on her. The hot shivers were so prominent.

The reality, the reality of her condition, took a while to be sunken in.

Her arm already bore the mark of her torment—the Dark Mark. But now her very body, her very soul was contaminated, tinted!

It made her nauseous to think about her _condition_.

Was it actually happening—to her? Was that the life she was bound to bear? It still felt like a nightmare and soon it would be over, and she'd get up in her four-poster in her dorm to see a bright sun.

But that bright sun of hers was hidden behind the dark shadows of past, following her.

"We know, we know..." Hermione squeezed her hand in reassurance. "But that will be...taken care of."

"Everything will be taken care of! Just don't leave us, at least! Trust us, will you!" Ron was so upset that he sounded angry.

He did that to control his emotions, it was his defence. Giselle had noticed him take the support of anger on some rare occasions to hide his grief. When Ginny was possessed and was lost; when Mr. Weasley was bitten by Nagini; when Percy left the house...

It was another such moment for him. Giselle should have been feeling warm that her friends cared—so much. But the barrier of fear and hurt was strong enough, not letting any other emotion to penetrate through.

"Sorry..." she mumbled. But sorry for what? For trying to kill herself? For putting them in that situation? For not trying harder to live? Or was it like a reassurance of not trying the same again? Because she might...

Ron and. Hermione exchanged glances. But didn't say anything.

It was after a long time when Ron finally said, "Should I call Mom? I haven't written to her yet, but Ginny might have."

_Oh, no!_ She had forgotten about her House. Had they seen her and known of her attempt to kill herself? Did they know the reason?

She never realised when her breathing got fast and shallow or when her heart started racing.

"Do they... Do they know? Do all of them know!"

"No, no, no," Hermione said calmly. "Nobody knows. McGonagall has seen to it, don't worry, just relax."

"We both got you here," Ron added. "And there was hardly anyone in the Common Room then. Nobody knew what exactly happened."

"Yes, everything is seen to, Miss Potter," McGongall's voice made the three of them jump in surprise.

It was the very scene the professor was expecting to find when coming to the infirmary.

Potter looked broken or more like, torn. And her friends, oh, even they were not old enough, were in a similar situation... After all, they were not even adults.

She walked to the bed Potter was occupying.

"How are you, Miss Potter?" Right after mouthing it, the question felt so lame.

She didn't reply, only averted her eyes down.

"There is a very pressing matter I need to address to you," she glanced at the two sitting beside the bed, "if your friends have not, already, that is."

"We have not, Professor," Weasley stated.

"In that case, I would like to have a conversation in private with you, Miss Potter, if that is alright with you," she asked.

Potter glanced at her friends and then at her before nodding.

Granger and Weasley quietly left her side but only after reassuring their friend that they would be right outside.

When the two left, McGonagall took one of the vacant seats by her side.

The girl looked peaky, all the more weak than she was found about a month ago. That sight had been horrible. After what she had been through it was not a shock that she tried something like that.

McGongall had talked to her briefly about whatever she went through in her confinement, had even offered to take her to consult a good mind-healer. But she had refused to even confide in her Head of House or friends. Molly Weasley, too, did her best to comfort her but she had enclosed herself into a cocoon. There was no space for any words in that shell.

Despite been offered a period of rest in order to recover, taking leave from her classes, Potter had been adamant about attending each class.

Six days, only six days of rest she took after about days of confinement in that Demon's Den! The day Poppy had discharged her, she had resumed classes.

Denial, McGonagall knew that it was denial. Returning to schedule might take her mind off her memories. But it was not a permanent solution.

The girl had worked like a statue since resuming classes on the 9th of September. She had not talked, not eaten properly, not spent time with friends, not played Quidditch—nothing. She had only kept her head down and nose buried in the book.

When Granger had come to her with concerns regarding her friend, the professor had confirmed her claims of Potter being suffering from Depression and PTSD.

Despite discussing it with Albus, they could find no resolve for her. If not in school, where would the girl go, anyway? To those horrible Muggles? She didn't even want to go to the Weasley's.

So she had stayed in school, attending to her normal routine with a damaged self.

"Miss Potter," she began. But the girl didn't meet her eyes.

"Giselle," she tried again. She hardly flinched.

"I would have started with reprimanding you for the step you took, but it is not the right time for that, I understand."

Her bandaged hand on resting on her chest and with the good she was fiddling the covers in nervousness.

McGonagall continued, "Right now, we have another issue that needs immediate attention—your pregnancy."

Giselle flinched hard, squeezing her eyes shut.

She was still in her shell of denial. Still was not considering the reality.

Her breathing shallowed and her grip of the lenin became strong.

McGongall put a warm, comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Calm yourself, Giselle," she said in a low voice. "We have already looked into the problem."

The affect calmed her down a bit.

She sighed and opened her eyes, again staring into space blankly.

"We have decided to terminate it," McGonagall tried to voice it casually, not to put much pressure on her.

But surprisingly or not, Giselle's expressions did not change. The other woman doubted if she had ignored her...

"Do you agree to it?" McGonagall asked in order to check if she had heard her or not.

But Giselle only nodded her approval.

It was not a shock that she did not react on hearing about the termination of her pregnancy. After all, she was only sixteen and wounded. The child was not conceived with her will or consent.

Merlin knew what horrors she was being reminded of, everyday.

"The Healers from St. Mungo's- They will be under an oath to keep your identity a secret," she added quickly and continued, "They will conduct the procedure. Madam Pomphrey will guide you about it. It should not take long. And your problem will be dealt with."

She placed her hand on her good hand. "Giselle, why didn't you come to me or anyone else when you got to know of your condition?" She asked. Her tone was soft. "Why did you take matters in your own hands?"

Neither did she reply nor was the woman expecting to receive one.

The trust was missing.

The greenish blue liquid was bubbling in the cauldron. And so was the anger within the person brewing the potion.

Snape's fingers worked hastily on chopping roots and slicing stems—years of practice had made the movements perfect. The job didn't even need attention anymore, he could do it with eyes shut.

So that day, he was accomplishing the job, lost in his infuriating thoughts. Curses after curses he was sparring on the incompetent medi-witch, Poppy Pomphrey.

The woman had claimed to have administered the Anti-Conception Potion to Potter along with many others, the day she was rescued.

But it certainly was not the case. Among so many other potion to feed her, she must have missed on that very important one.

Well, the credibility of his potions were unquestionable. He had never made a mistake and never would. Institutions like St. Mungo's in England, Florence Nightingale's Wizarding Health Care Centre in France, St. Martha's Magical Cures and Remedies in America—the most prominent Wizarding Hospitals paid him handsome sums to provide them with his potions. In years, there had not been a single complaint against his brews.

So naturally, it was the medi-witch who was at fault.

"Why doesn't Albus throw the woman out, I cannot come to comprehend!" He muttered under his breath.

He could find a slew of Healers willing to work for the school, but for some reason unknown to him, Albus chose the most unreliable staff for the school—like Trelawney, Quirrell, Lockhart, Lupin—at least, Lupin could teach—and many more.

They were all black spots on the name of the school.

And now, Poppy Pomphrey, too!

But no matter how he berated the woman or the Headmaster, it wouldn't change the fact that the repercussions of what they did is causing a great deal to Potter.

No, Snape still had no liking for the girl. She was still an insufferable brat! If not a brat at her horrible relatives' house then the brat of the Wizarding World. But the issue went well beyond his impression of her.

She was only sixteen, basically a child herself. One who had gone through a lot! Well, who knew that better than him...

And now, because of the carelessness of a certain excuse for a medi-witch, she was suffering through a _condition_ which could have easily been avoided.

Albus had made his decision—terminate the pregnancy, kill the problem itself. But what about the health of that sixteen-year-old girl? How would her body react to the change?

Among that chaos, a topic that was being ignored was her attempt to take her life.

"Had that feline not even bothered to counsel her after the ordeal?!" Snape spat. His anger was displaced from Poppy to Minerva.

Snape would be the last person to sympathise with thr girl or anyone. But he was a teacher, responsible for a House himself. That was a teacher's duty. But it seemed that even the Deputy Headmistress had failed to attend to her duties.

They had permitted her to resume classes merely six days after being rescued!

"Bloody treating it as a joke, these bastards!" His anger was targeted to everyone—Albus, Minerva, Poppy, all ot them.

"If only they could comprehend the extent of the trauma!"

But he could—one could call it 'perks' of being a double agent.

Severus closed his eyes and erected his Occlumency shield. Among many other memories, that one was also too rancid to let it surface.

Well, they clearly had no time to think about that. Before one of his snakes got the wind of it, the issue needed to be resolved.

He had potions to finish and a life to save.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary:** Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is NOT a SLASH. So don't expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING: **Tis story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**A/N:** Thank you for reading my work so far! Please, give you suggestions and tell me how would you like to see it progress? Enjoy your read!

**_THTP*****THTP*****_**

**Chapter 3: Of Morality And Decisions **

"...so, you see, it will take no more than half an hour to terminate the foetus," Healer Bronze spoke slowly, in a teacher-like tone, explaining Giselle the entire procedure. Her long fingers often gesturing towards some potions that were meant to fed to her.

Madam Pomphrey and Professor McGonagall added a piece of information now and then.

Sitting on one of the beds in the Hospital Wing, Giselle was having a hard time concentrating on what the Healer was telling.

Perhaps, she should have been getting agitated to think of going through an abortion. But there were no thoughts in her head pertaining to it.

The...foetus, Merlin! She flinched at the mere mention of the thing. It nauseated her to even think of it—a fungus growing inside her!

She could everything to get rid of that nasty thing—even her life! A bout of nausea suddenly forced her to keep a hand on her mouth—the mere thought of it was disgusting.

Giselle quickly ran to the nearest rest room to aid herself, ignoring the Healer who was still talking. She heard the other three ladies hastily coming by her side and was grateful for Madam Pomphrey to hold her hair back through the torture.

She was muttering some soft, comforting words throughout. In the background, she heard Healer Bronze saying something akin to It's only natural' and McGonagall tutting over it.

When her stomach settled, Giselle washed her face thoroughly, gargling a few times to get rid of the acidic feel in her mouth. The ladies had left her to some privacy. She looked up, into the mirror. Oh, that was a mistake.

The circles under her eyes, the chapped lips she had, the pallor spread across her face were sickening. A scar or two still remained near lips, reminding her of her days in that hell. A sudden burning urge to hit someone overpowered her. _No!_ She would not allow that fungus to grow in her body and torment her!

_I will not be put through this!_

Before that _thing_ killed her, she needed to get rid of it!

She walked out of the rest room with a pace.

"I am ready," she announced with impatience in her voice. "When can we do it?"

The three ladies glanced at one another in uncertainty.

Madam Pomphrey looked the most ill at ease. She ushered Giselle back to her bed wordlessly.

Healer Bronze turned to her.

"Well, dear, don't you have any questions about the process?" She asked calmly.

"No," Giselle replied flatly. "I just want to be over with it as soon as possible."

Beside her Pomphrey sighed audibly.

McGonagall asked again if there were any doubts in her mind regarding the abortion. But she only refused.

There was no time for doubts. She wanted to be over with it! At the most what could it cost her? Her life? Oh, she was already willing to give that up.

"Alright, then," Healer Bronze got to her feet. "I must make arrangements. In a couple of hours, then."

She looked at Pomphrey, "Do the necessary scans while I floe set the room up, Madam."

Pomphrey nodded. Giselle could see the reluctance in her demeanour. Many might show disapproval to her decision. Many might argue that children were a blessing. But it was a blessing when asked for it, not even one is burdened with it.

**_THTP*****THTP*****_**

"Are we ready, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. Her was calm as always. If he was agitated, it was hardly visible. Leaning back in his chair, the Headmaster looked pretty normal, like on any other day. Had Snape not known better, he would have assumed that the man did not care for what was taking place in the Hospital Wing in a couple of hours.

"My potions are more than ready," he replied, pacing the oval office. "But that is all the assurance I am capable of providing. Ask that medi-witch of yours for a detailed report."

Albus sighed deeply. "Holding grudges against Poppy?"

"Grudges!" Snape snarled. "If I may ask, Headmaster, why is the nurse still in this school?! It was grave medical negligence on her part!"

"Poppy has worked for us—with us—for about thirty five years."

"And yet, how unfortunate and appalling that the blunder was committed by such an experienced medi-witch," Snape spat bitterly.

His fists were tight in annoyance as he finally stopped his pacing and stood in front of the other man. "Will you remain silent, Albus?"

"As much as it pains to believe, Severus," the Headmaster began, "But Giselle is not the first student Poppy is dealing with. She has dealt with number of students in similar circumstances—some of them from your own House. We have never come across a situation like this in the past because of Poppy's treatment, unassisted—let us not forget, my boy."

"And yet, she failed in het duties this one time," Snape spat again.

"Give her the benefit of doubt," Dumbledore said in a voice that was soft, yet forceful. "Maybe, she did give the potion to Giselle, but it-"

"Did not work?" Snape finished for him. "Is that an allegation on me, then? Of I being negligent—is that what you are applying, Albus?"

"Of course, not, my boy," the older man said calmly. "I have never doubted you or your merits or skills in Potion Making. I am only implying that we must give Poppy some benefit of doubt. There can be numerous reasons for the current scenario. Maybe Giselle's body was not competent with that particular potion or that among the other potions she was given, that particular one could not work to its full effect."

Shape snorted, "You are trying to fool me with those puerile ideas about incompatible potions and human body?" He laughed bitterly, without humour, "Well, if protecting Poppy is what you would do, then so be it. But do not, even for a moment, think that I have even a hair worth of trust left in that school nurse."

"So am I to assume that you finally care for Giselle?" A sly smile played on Dumbledore's lips.

Snape eyed him viscously. If glares could kill, Albus would have been dead.

"Care for the girl? Not in this lifetime, at least," he stated bitterly. "It is the mere health risk that I am concerned about."

Snape caring for Potter—like God joining hands with the devil.

"If there is anything about the girl I care for, it is the simple fact that she is a student and thus, the responsibility of the school."

For some infuriating reason, Dumbledore's eyes started twinkling brilliantly and his slight smile made Snape even angrier. Something was cooking in that old coot's head—something that involved the Potions Master in a fashion he would not liked to be involved.

**_THTP*****THTP*****_**

It was in the mid of August that Dumbledore had informed the Order of Phoenix that Giselle was missing from her relatives' place in Surrey. In Grimmauld Place, in the emergency meeting, when he had told them how the Dursleys' house was vacant when the Order members went to investigate, and how later the Dursleys returned home from a vacation, but they had claimed that Giselle did not go with them.

So when he reached to the conclusion that as het relatives had abandoned Giselle, the blood wards were fallen, thus giving an easy and empty way to the Death Eaters into the house, Molly Weasley was the first among the fifty-something present members to have cried in horror and lost control of her emotions.

The same horror had struck her again on hearing about Giselle's attempt at taking her life and on being informed of her current state.

It was all stated in Ron's. well-worded letter to her—which she suspected to have been dictated to him by Hermione—which arrived early in the morning. But before she could decide upon going to Hogwarts, Minerva had floe called her to tell her about the entire episode herself. The Deputy Headmistress had asked her to visit Giselle, too, in the Hospital Wing.

On knowing about the abortion which was to take place later in the day, the red-haired plump woman had mixed thoughts and opinions. While it was highly abhorrent, according to her to kill an unborn baby, it was equally vile to put a sixteen-year-old through the torture of bearing an unwilling pregnancy. And especially when it came to Giselle, whom she considered akin to her own daughter, there was no question of letting the girl suffer.

"...so I quickly made your favourite treacle tart for you," Mrs. Weasley took out a small casserole from her handbag. "Not right now, but you can have them after_wards_..."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Giselle's voice was not more than a low-spirited whisper.

Molly's heart ached to see her girl so disappointed, so empty. An overwhelming urge to wrap her in an embrace overpowered her each time she saw Giselle, but at the same time she knew that the girl was not ready for that kind of action. It never missed Molly's sight how she flinched every time somebody as much as touched her. Yet, there was a thirst in her eyes, a longing to be held, to be consoled, to be reassured. The contradictory emotions were tearing her from within.

"Dear, are you scared of the procedure?" Molly asked in a soothing voice.

For the first time since the woman's arrival, Giselle looked up, at her with her empty eyes, and said, "No, I am only impatient."

There was a rage in her eyes when she had spoken, an intense hatred which was very unlikely with Giselle. But she had all the right to be angry, to be furious!

But what troubled Molly was how unhealthy the intense emotion was for her tender age.

Since Sirius' death, the true Giselle was...lost, as Ron would often say. Or maybe it was the case since the third task... Fred had once said something about Diggory and Giselle being quite 'close'. Those had been the rumours in the Daily Prophet since they had danced as partners in the Yule Ball, that year. But it that was anything more than a rumour, that night of the third task must have carried more significance to her than just the return of You-Know-Who...

Molly had witnessed a significant change in her—from being a blithe, congenial child to a despondent, lonely girl, the circumstances had made her, mostly lost in her own deep stupors.

It was the depression that had taken her, Molly could tell after raising her seven kids. The Order protected her from harm, but nobody was there to shield her from the clutches of depression.

"Everything is ready," Healer Bronze entered the Hospital Wing, followed by Poppy and Minerva.

Molly nodded to the two familiar ladies in greetings and shook hands with the Healer. "I'm Molly Weasley," she smiled at the kind face of the Healer.

"Hello, I'm Healer Rose Bronze," the other woman introduced herself. "I am here for the abortion procedure."

Molly nodded in understanding.

"Miss Potter," she said, "We are going to begin the procedure now. Ma'am Pomphrey will guide you to the private room through her office. Change into the paper gown and make yourself comfortable."

Molly looked at Giselle's plain yet troubled expressions which soon got straightened again, placing a protective hand on smaller one.

"I will be right here when you come back," the lady said with a smile.

In return, Giselle's lips moved soundlessly in a 'thank you'.

Poppy led Giselle to her office, closing the door behind. Giselle's steps were small and she visibly swayed, walking, but at the medi-witch's attempt at guiding her by her shoulder, the girl recoiled slightly. The woman took the message and withdrew her hand.

Molly noticed the entire exchange silently.

"Healer Bronze," Molly turned to the blond-haired tall woman, "I hope the abortion will have no long term consequences on her body...considering her age..."

"Oh, no, not at all," the Healer waved it off. "The foetus is only four weeks old—it is perfectly recommended to terminate the pregnancy early."

"Also, Molly," Minerva said, "Magical abortion are not as, let us say dangerous, as the Muggle ones."

"I hope so," she sighed. "Oh, how I hope the poor girl didn't have to go through all of it in the first place..."

"So we all hope," the Deputy Headmistress agreed.

"Suicide and all, I never expected her to...Merlin, she must have felt so lonely to have considered death..." Molly's eyes became moist and the familiar ache in her heart returned.

_THTP_

Ron, Hermione and Ginny reached the Hospital Wing to find the three ladies still in conversation, but Giselle was nowhere to be seen.

"Mom?" Ron walked to his mother, followed by a seemingly upset Ginny and an equally worried Hermione. "When did you come? And where's Giselle?"

"We are going to begin the procedure," the Healer told the three. "It will only take half an hour, you can meet your friend then."

"Will she be alright?" Ginny asked, coming to her mother's side.

Mrs. Weasley put her arm around her daughter. "She will be."

"You three should have been in the Great Hall for lunch at this hour, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Miss Weasley," McGonagall said in her in her infamous stern tone.

"We are not hungry, Professor," Hermione replied.

"Nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley tutted. "You can visit Giselle after your classes. She will anyway need rest afterwards."

"Healer Bronze," Madam Pomfrey called from her office door, looking a bit agitated, "She is ready."

"Right," the Healer looked at the others with an encouraging, confident smile before retiring to the office. Madam Pomphrey gave McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley an unreadable look before closing the door.

Before leaving the Hospital Wing along with the two Weaskeys, Hermione heard McGonagall muttering a prayer quietly and Mrs. Weasley sighing deeply.

**_THTP*****THTP*****_**

Considering the number of times Giselle had been in the Hospital Wing due to various reasons, it was quite surprising to find that there was also a couple of separate rooms in the Hospital Wing, led through Madam Pomphrey's office.

They were similar to the rooms in any hospitals—with a sterile odour and green lenin spread on the usual beds. Each room was quite spacious with another door probably leading to the connected bathroom.

On entering, Madam Pomphrey had handed her a paper gown and had left to give her privacy.

Giselle had quickly changed, not wanting to look at her bones protruding from her ribs or the scars that still visible on her body.

The gown was uncomfortable for her, it made her feel exposed and vulnerable. The entire procedure made her vulnerable. But if that was the cost she had pay to get rid of the..._thing_, she was willing to pay it.

She had called the medi-witch after changing and was asked to lie down on the bed while she called the other Healer.

Madam Pomphrey had also put a tray of different potions on one of the tables before leaving and Giselle wished that she had paid attention when Healer Bronze was explaining the procedure to her.

But as long as she was getting rid of that fungus, she did not care how much it hurt... After all, what could pain her more than what she had already bore.

Laying on the bed, she stared at the roof—there was no canopy, unlike the beds in her common room, it was blank and so were the eyes gazing at it. Her fingers fiddled with the covers. It took efforts not to think of that thing growing in her for it made her nauseous!

The entire story was sickening! But she found some comfort in the thought that soon she would be rid of it—forever.

The door opened, allowing the two ladies in, both dressed in professional blue medical suits, but with no masks or gloves.

Healer Bronze smiled at her while the school nurse did not as much as glance at Giselle.

"Are you ready, dear?" she asked. Giselle nodded. Ready or not, she wanted to get rid of it so badly that she had not felt a trace of nervousness in herself regarding the procedure.

"Alright then," she picked one of the potion vials from the tray and handed it to her. "Drink this, you will soon lose your consciousness, and when you are awake, you will be completely alright."

'And without the fungus.' Giselle wordlessly added. She took the vial from the lady and poured the bitter contents in her mouth, flinching only slightly at its terrible taste.

"Now count backwards from hundred, dear," the Healer said, taking the empty vial from her hand.

Without question, she began, "Hundred, ninety nine, ninety eight, ninety seven..."

Her voice became duller and duller with every number and she lost the contact with the material world gradually. By eighty, her thoughts were clouded except the one that when she awoke, she would be free! "...sixty...two..." With that, darkness took over her, sending her to a deep sleep, far, far away.

"I think we should begin," Healer Bronze said to her counterpart.

Madam Pomfrey charmed a potion into Giselle's stomach followed by another one before stepping back.

The other Healer took the charge, she took out her wand and placed it on the girl's abdomen.

Then, her muttering of latin released a low blue light from her wand, being absorbed by Giselle's body.

Poppy watched as the dull blue light gradually became stronger and brighter.

Her muttering stopped when the light was the brightest. The Healer waved her wand in circles over Giselle's abdomen and concentrated strongly on her wand moments.

There was not much that Poppy had to do, so she took a seat on one of the stools.

She was against the termination, against killing a life—but she had no say over the matter and she was aware of that.

She did assist the Healer to the best of her abilities but could still not fathom the idea of killing a life. Giselle had not been the first student to have gotten pregnant and needing an abortion, but previously, it always took place in St. Mungo's where Poppy had to witness nothing.

But due to the security reasons, that could not be possible with Giselle. Yes, it might be a terrible idea to take the pregnancy further, but who decided what was more morally incorrect? To let a young girl suffer through the burden of a nonconsensual pregnancy or to take the life of an innocent? But the quandary was that both lives at hand were equally innocent.

How miserable, Poppy thought, for young Giselle to be stuck amidst the conflict-

"Madam Pomfrey!" the Healer cry made the medi-witch jump.

In front of her, Giselle's body was convulsing violently. Healer Bronze stood by the bed but her wand was tossed on the floor.

"What is happening?" Madam

Pomphrey was instantly on her feet. "She should not be having a seizure!"

The other woman looked at her with an expression of horror and chills ran down Poppy's spine. "What did you do!"

"I was only performing the incantation!" Bronze retorted.

Poppy strode to the bed and hurriedly ran a scan. The medi-witch gasped. "This needs to be stopped-rightvaway!"

Apart from an abortion, even deaths have never graced her Hospital Wing—and she would make sure that record was maintained.

**_THTP*****THTP*****_**

It was very rare for the students to see a house-elf in Hogwarts and more unexpected to find them popping in the middle of a class.

Let alone in the middle of a fourth-year Potions class.

Snape who was reprimanding one of the very foolish Hufflepuff for stirring the potion anti-clockwise instead of clockwise was taken by surprise.

The little elf bowed in greeting and handed him a folded piece of parchment before popping away, shyly.

"Have you never seen a house-elf before, you dunderheads!" Snape growled at the entire class who were goggling at him with thrill. All the eyes were again down, on their cauldrons.

_Little pinheads! What could have possibly possessed the sender to have disrupted my class!_

Snape walked back to his desk and unfolded the parchment. In a hasty handwriting the message was scribbled:

_Severus,_

_Hospital Wing—an Anti-seizure and an anti-abortion—high dosage of both. IMMEDIATELY!_

_Poppy. _

"That incompetent-" Snape gritted his teeth, tearing the parchment in anger. "Class dismissed!"

With that, he strode to his private potion cupboard, ignoring the whispers of his students, looking for the two said potions, hoping that he still had some spare from the stock he had recently sent to the States, alongside hurling curses at that _Albus Too-Many-Names Dumbledore_ to have assigning the task to the wretched nurse!

"I am going to skin that woman alive!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: Tis story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**A/N**: Thank you for reading so far! Please, give you reviews and let me know how you'd like to see it progress? Enjoy your read!

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 4: Trapped**

The floo to Poppy's office flared as an infuriated Snape stepped into the white-washed room, carrying several vials of Potions.

He quickly strode to one of the rooms and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him was of the two ladies working hastily with their wands on a violently convulsing Potter girl, seemingly unconscious.

"In the name of Merlin!" Snape slammed the door behind him. "Move away!" He shouted.

Poppy looked at him with some relief and obeyed. Snape took his wand out and with expertise charmed the Anti-Seizure Potion into the girl's system.

"Spell both the potions in, Severus!" Poppy cried. "Before it destroys her body, we need to stop the abortion!"

"What?!" Snape frowned. "We need to get the foetus aborted, at this stage, pronto!"

"Just do as she says, Professor," the Healer requested. "She is right!"

An Anti-Abortion was very harmful for both the mother and the foetus—the intensity of which was very tough to be evaluated in a second. But before Snape could make any inference, Poppy had snatched the potion from his hand and spelled it in Potter's system.

"Are you insane, woman!" Snape shrieked, fearing the worst. It was never suggested to stop a magic termination of pregnancy in such an unceremonious manner. It could take not only the life of the child but also that of the mother. A potion that was used to avoid miscarriages was put to a dangerous use by the medi-witch.

"Wait!" Poppy shouted when Healer Bronze tried to go closer to the girl in question. "Let the potion work."

Snape closed his eyes, running a hand down his face. If Dumbledore lost his 'golden girl' due to the foolish actions of the witch, the old man would surely suffer a cardiac arrest.

But before that Snape would skin the woman! He had, after all, put his own life into jeopardy to get the girl back from her captivity—alive! If the nurse's reckless act did anything to foil _his_ efforts...

The seizures stopped, leaving the girl drained. "Monitor her heart-beat," Snape ordered.

Healer Bronze moved her wand over the now paler-looking girl—if that was possible—and several transparent screens appeared over her, in the air.

From his days of apprenticeship and training, Snape recognised the various screens and their work. The heart rate was slowly coming to normal.

"Oh, she will live," the Healer released a long-held sigh.

"And so will the child," Poppy added, holding the edge of a table for support.

"Check the status of the foetus," Snape again said in his superior tone.

The tall woman again waved her wand over the girl and another screen appeared in the air. It was mostly black with a very tiny spot in the middle. The ultrasound, Snape recognised.

"The child is, unexpectedly, fine—alive, at least," she announced in amazement.

"And we need to keep it so," Poppy said in her steely voice.

"What are you implying, Poppy?" Snape asked. He did not like to be kept in the dark.

"Let us discuss it with the Headmaster," the lady said, glancing at the prone frame of

the girl. "I will...explain."

*******THTP*****THTP*******

"What seems to be the problem, Poppy?" Albus was sitting, leaning forward towards hid desk. His circular office was occupied by Minerva, Healer Bronze, Molly Weasley, Poppy and Snape, himself. A house-elf was assigned by the medi-witch to keep a watch on the still unconscious girl.

"It is a very...rare happening, Headmaster," Poppy said, contorting her hands in her lap.

"Not heard of in the Healing field..." She glanced at the other Healer who nodded in agreement.

"Come to the point, will you!" Snape snarled impatiently. Albus nodded at him calmly, raising a wrinkled hand.

"Albus," Poppy continued, "The child is only four weeks, or at maximum, five. Just a foetus. Nothing more."

"Thank you for the lesson on Anatomy, but we can already comprehend that much," Snape said irritably.

Poppy looked at him with a frown but continued. "Usually, a wizard's or witch's magical core starts to be developed from the day of the conception," she said. "But that magical core is very week initially. In fact, most children show their first signs of accidental magic as late as at eight or nine or ten."

She adjusted herself in her seat and Snape curled his fights tight on being expected to put his temper on check when the woman was clearly taking dramatic pauses in between.

"At four weeks, the magical core is hardly existing, let alone the baby having magic... But..."

"But?" Snape smirked on seeing even Minerva being impatient.

"But Giselle's child has magic enough to protect itself from harm," she announced.

"Meaning?" Molly Weasley sounded amazed and shocked at the same time.

"Meaning," Poppy cleared her throat, "That when Healer Bronze tried to abort the child with magic, the child protested."

Minerva and Weasley gasped while Albus' hand travelled to his beard.

"The child started protesting with his- or her magic against that of the Healer—with full force, resulting in the seizures Giselle was experiencing."

"Basically," Bronze started, "The two magical forces were working against Giselle's body, due to which she started to convulse."

"But how can you be so certain that it was the child's magic and not Potter's?" Snape asked, resting his elbows on his lower thighs.

"I felt a force against that of mine," the woman explained. "The magic was similar to a bout of accidental magic or a child's magic—but it was way stronger than that of child. Had it been Miss Potter's magic, it would not have been accidental."

"But how can that be possible, Albus?" Minerva took her glasses off, rubbing her temples.

"As much as we deny the parentage or the child," Albus got to his feet, "There is no denying of the fact that the child has two of the strongest parents the Wizarding World has to offer. Which makes the child just as powerful. For good or for bad, the child will inherit the magic from his or her parents."

"If you don't mind me asking," Healer Bronze said, "May I now know who the father to the child is?"

All the others in the room eyed her—some with mistrust and some with nervousness. They knew that she had taken the oath of secrecy, yet she was never told about the true parentage of the child in question.

Albus turned to face her with his eyes piercing through her soul, "The Dark Lord, Voldemort."

A loud gasp echoed through the room and Snape felt a rush of pain in his forearm. He put his other hand on the arm bearing the Dark Mark. A series of events flowed through his head, the memories were again refreshed of the dreadful night when Potter was found to be missing and of the nights that followed.

He closed his eyes and even in the darkness he could see the Malfoy Manor, the dark corridors that led to the basement—that had confined the girl for days. The malice-laced voice of the Dark Lord, flaunting the sickening tortures that he had subjected the girl to—rung in his ears.

Snape knew everything, from the day of the kidnapping to the day of the rescue, he had heard it all through various other Death Eaters in the Manor. He had been a part of the disgusting discussions, had been a part of the plotting of ways to break her, had even laughed with the monsters hearing of her plight by the Dark Lord.

"What...how? How come?" the woman exploded.

"Giselle was kidnapped..." Molly Weasley delivered the three words in a small voice.

As the realisation struck the Healer, her expressions darkened. "That means...that means...it was non-consensual?"

_Non-consensual_ was a highly euphemistic term to be used, Snape decided. For the Dark Lord's wretched acts, no such term sufficed.

"That means...it's a...rape child?" She covered her mouth in shock. "Of You-Know-Who?"

Severus rubbed his temples, glancing at the Headmaster. He had heard and seen enough to be tolerating the melodramatic confrontation. For days, in the Malfoy Manor, the 'breaking of Giselle Potter' had been the subject of discussion over tea. And it was in situations like those that Snape was most grateful for his Occlumency shields being so intact.

"We need to find an alternative to this problem, Headmaster Dumbledore!" The woman slapped the desk in anger. "No! The child cannot be compelled to keep it! Not in these circumstances! Had I known it was You-Know-Who's... I thought it was just a teenage stupidity..."

"But what can we do, anyway?" Madam Pomphrey said. "If we try to terminate the pregnancy, we will surely lose the girl."

"What if we try through Muggle means?" Minerva suggested. To some extent, it was logical—the child could fight against magic, but it was not very likely for the same to happen with Muggle means... But if the magic of the mere four-weeks-old foetus was so strong, it would also have the power to counter the Muggle ways.

"No, I'm afraid even that won't be possible," Poppy said with a sigh. "When Giselle was brought to the Hospital Wing after her attempt...I was surprised to know that despite the blood loss, no harm had come to Giselle's or the baby's life. I did not give it much thought then, but now I realise that it could also have been the child's magic protecting himself and his mother. Which brings us to the conclusion that-"

"That the Muggle means would prove to be as futile and ineffective as the magical means," Snape finished on her behalf. "So we are basically back to square one—with a major issue and no course of action."

"The only course of action I see, Severus, is for Giselle to keep the child," Poppy said. "After all, the child has somewhat saved her life!"

"Can you hear yourself, woman!" Snape shrieked, flustered. "You are suggesting that the girl should be put through the harrowing experience of tending to the progeny of the very scoundrel who violated her for days at end! The one who is responsible for her the murder of her parents! Thus, pushing the vulnerable teenager towards attempting to take her life once more!"

"So what do you suggest, Severus!" Poppy yelled, too. "If you have some other idea, do share with us."

"That will be all," the Headmaster's calm yet stern voice was enough to restore the silence. "While I do not disagree with Severus' point, I do, myself, not understand what we can do to aid Giselle in the current scenario."

And then, nobody spoke, for nobody had an argument to put forward.

It was after long silence that Poppy spoke.

"Headmaster," she said, "I think it is, at least not right now, possible to terminate the pregnancy... But if Giselle is to...how should I put it...go on with it, I would suggest taking her away from Hogwarts, if it has to remain a secret."

"Away?" Minerva raised her eyebrows to Albus. "Well, we cannot afford to let the word spread. Severus?" Everybody, including the Headmaster, turned towards him.

Snape contemplated the idea—whereas his Slytherins—most ot them—were already familiar with Potter's treatment at the Malfoy Manor and Snape had had to take _strict_ measures to let the episode remain a secret so that nobody in other houses got the wind of Potter's kidnapping. But it wouldn't be that obvious for the snakes to assume the girl to be carrying the Dark Lord's spawn at any rate. But if they got the slightest idea about it, the word will, in no time, reach the wrong ears.

The bastard could either try to attack the girl, assuming her condition to be fragile or, Merlin forbid, could come to take his spawn away. In both the cases, the Light would gain nothing, naturally. Also, if come to think of the girl, Snape highly doubted that she could take another blow...

"It is highly imperative to maintain the absolute secrecy over the matter," Snape declared. "We cannot let the girl remain here, at Hogwarts."

Albus ran a hand down his beard pensively. "In that case," he said, "One of us will have to accommodate Giselle until either we find a solution to the problem or until the child is delivered."

It took a while for Albus' words to sink in. Everybody started stealing glances at one another in confusion and at a loss of words.

Expectedly, Molly Weasley, who had been silent for a quite a while, said, "Albus, I will take her in. Arthur and I have always taken her as a daughter. We will take care of her properly."

"Molly," Dumbledore's tone already gave away the vibe of disapproval, "Whereas I would never doubt your or Arthur's intention or capability of taking a good care of Giselle, you already have quite a lot on your plate—with Arthur working for us at the Ministry as well as for the Order, and you with the job I have assigned you for the Order."

"Moreover," Snape spoke before Molly Weasley could argue, "Your house would be very traceable and unequivocal, for a dearth of a better word, place to hide the girl."

_The Burrow_—Snape cringed inwardly—the family had more than half a dozen of redheads already to be fed! Adding on another would serve nobody, let alone do any good to the girl!

"We can assign guards for security, Albus," she brought up. "Any Order member could guard the house, and I will never leave Giselle alone."

She sounded desperate but her arguments were week to contain any conviction.

"Molly, we do not have Order members to stand guard anymore," Albus explained. "Most of them are out on missions already. I do respect your concern but we clearly cannot take a chance with Giselle's security-"

"...Again," Snape added bitterly.

Since the night Albus had broke the news of her Potter being missing, he had left no opportunity to taunt the incompetence of the Order members to accomplish a task as mitigate as standing guard. It was the anger and frustration that led him to express his bitterness whenever the topic came up. After all, it was Snape who had to risk his cover to gather information about the girl when she was locked in Malfoy Manor.

"Yes, again," Albus said in a flat yet low voice, not looking at his employee.

"Albus, I can house her," Minerva offered. "Except that I know not a thing about babies or expecting ladies, I can look after her security well in my house in Wales. Provided, I am sanctioned the leave for it."

"No, Minerva, not you," the old Headmaster shook his head. "This year, with the Death Eaters becoming stronger, I will have to leave Europe for many reasons, mainly to acquire foreign support from the Wizarding community in Asia and North America. I will have to rely on you for most of my duties, as my Deputy to look after the school affairs."

"Well, what if we shift Giselle from school after, let us say, around January, when things are more...uh, visible?" Minerva suggested. "Until then, you will be back from your tour, as well, and I will then take Giselle with me to Wales."

"Of course, not, Professor," As another objection was raised, by Bronze, Minerva and Mrs. Weasley flinched. It seemed as if no consensus could they reach upon.

"Pregnancy is the last thing that can remain a secret for long, visible or not," Bronze, despite their reaction, continued. "There is morning sickness to begin with and I am of the knowledge that about three other girls share a dormitory with Giselle, it will be pretty evident. Or if she felt sick by the smell of certain food, students in your dining hall might get suspicious. There will be some evident changes in her food habits, not to mention the number of potions she will need to take. She might start getting tired sooner than usual or experience frequent bouts of dizziness in class, these changes will not go unnoticed-"

"Yes, yes, we get the idea," Minerva looked rather disturbed to discuss the topic.

Well, Snape thought, Tokophobia is not unheard of. But if so was the case, how could she propose to accommodate the girl! _How irresponsible can one be_, he inwardly huffed.

"So as Minerva is seemingly unfit to house the girl, what next, Albus?" At the comment, Minerva threw a glare at him which he gracefully ignored.

For a moment Snape thought the Headmaster wouldn't say anything. But when he spoke, Snape wished he hadn't!

"I think, the the Grimmauld Place, would be the safest for Giselle," he said. "Although Remus has his share of Order missions, I could let him free, for the sake of Giselle. They both can live there."

"Have you lost your bloody mind, Albus!" Snape spat. "Lupin?! That werewolf who is not even capable of handing himself is your proposed nominee?" Anger surged through his veins—_how could the old coot be so ignorant!_

"Now, now, Severus," the Headmaster spoke in his ever-calming tone. "Only because you have your prejudices against him, it does not make Remus any less capable of looking after his friend's daughter."

"Ah, how could have I missed that angle?" Snape said sardonically. "Lupin will, for sure, take a care of his friend's daughter, just like he did when that daughter was rescued in her grave condition and was confined to the Hospital Wing for days. Oh, no, perhaps he was absent, then? Grieving for the loss of his mutt and blaming the daughter of his friend, wasn't he?" An invisible smirk tugged on his lips, a sense of satisfaction settled into his being.

"He does not blame her, Professor," Mrs. Weasley opposed. "Remus is in a state of shock himself... He needs time after losing his friend, that is all. He loves Giselle like a daughter."

"And I have the utmost affection for the Dark Lord's snake," Snape muttered bitterly.

"Well, my apologies," Snape's tone was laced with acerbity. "But if that werewolf is going through an emotional breakdown himself, perhaps he should be taken care of, too, not be assigned of looking after another."

"Well, then," Albus said in a disappointment tone. "Remus was our last resort. If not him, she would have to go to her relatives' place, again, where she could be protected by the blood wards."

"Absolutely not!" Snape spat. "I would rather suggest you to dig a grave for her, yourself! Do you not remember, Albus, how they had abandoned her and fled away on their little family holiday!"

"It seems you have one issue or another with everything being suggested, Severus!" Poppy said in annoyance. "Would you like to take a more constructive part in the conversation rather than just passing your judgement!"

"He is not entirely wrong, Poppy," Albus defended him. "We are clearly at a loss right now with nowhere for Giselle to go."

Was that the cost one has to pay for being an orphan, Snape sighed. He, himself, had lost his mother at a considerably young age of nineteen and his father—well, even his presence was equivalent to absent—a year later.

But until then, he had indulged in such darkness, bearing the Dark Mark on his arm that their deaths did not affect him much.

It was a week after his mother's funeral that he had received the news. It was only that one time that he had visited her grave. In the case of his father, he deliberately did not attend the funeral. He did not even know where his grave was—and he hardly cared. But for not visiting his mother, he had reasons.

The tombstone reminded him of his utter ignorance as a son and Snape had locked away that guilt in the deep folds of his mind.

But Potter—she had been an orphan all along. Severus had always held the myth that her relatives treated her as something akin to a Princess. Huh, now he knew, it had been far from it.

Today, when she was stuck in a situation so wretched, there was nowhere for the Saviour of the Wizarding World to go.

That was the price, Severus thought, one had to pay for not having a mother... Another surge of guilt overpowered him. Scenarios began to form in his head of how different the things would have been, with Potter's parents alive, with her mother alive, with Lily alive...

"I will accommodate her," as the words escaped his lips, Snape regretted it.

Yes, he found the girl disrelishing. But also, he was not suited to care for her in her state. Being a Potions Master, he did have enough training in the field of Healing, but not sufficient practical experience or training.

He would neither be able to help her physiologically nor psychologically—for the girl was clearly depressed and suicidal.

But leaving her to rot at that infernal house of the obnoxious Dursleys seemed more wretched an option as compared to his house. Snape inwardly cringed at the thought.

_Grimmauld Place, Merlin's b-!_

That little, lugubrious house was more than suitable to keep a corpse—akin to a courtyard, that Noble House of Mutts was!

_Keep the girl confined there and her corpse would grace us, soon. Well, that would be a relief, nevertheless! _

"Severus, you?" Minerva was gawking at him in disbelief, followed by Poppy. Molly Weasley looked uncertain of the idea with an indifference on the Healer's face. But Dumbledore! The fool's eyes were twinkling madly. Snape kicked himself inwardly to disclose his decision publicly!

"Yes, your hearing is still intact, Minerva," he said, pretending to be casual and unaffected. As it was as casual as buying a new stock of Potion ingredients.

"I can provide the girl with a place to stay and safety because none of you are capable enough for that." tEven at his curt comment, nobody seemed to be offended for they were too deep in shock.

"Brilliant, my boy!" Albus would have started jumping if not for the people in the office. "Very thoughtful of you, very kind of you, Severus. There cannot be a better-"

"Spare me the drama, Headmaster," Snape rolled his eyes. "You still have to enquire the girl for her opinion and her consent over this is highly dubious."

"Don't worry about that, Severus, I will ask her," he said with that infernal grin of his.

"But, Severus," Minerva, after recovering from her state of shock, "Why would you? Five years, more in fact, and not a day when you have failed to express your intense hatred towards her. If this another of your tricks to torment her-"

"Professors!" A little house-elf wearing an old piece of rag popped directly in front of them, making Healer Bronze jump in reflex. "Miss Potter be wake, Professors! She be calling Medi-witch, Pomphrey, Professors."

Despite the incomprehensible explanation provided by the elf, Poppy and the Healer were on their feet and through the floe, heading to the private room in the Hospital Wing, in no time.

"We all must be there when she breaks the news to her," Mrs. Weasley said.

"If she already doesn't know..." Minerva muttered.

"Come, Severus," said Albus, placing his wrinkled hand on the Potions Master's arm. "It is important for you to be there, too, now that you have taken a decision."

At that, Snape knew he was going to regret it.

Discussions and arguments hanging in the air, left forgotten as they made their way to aid the girl.

It would be a task, Snape thought, to inform her of her current condition.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: Tis story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**A/N**: Thank you for giving your reviews. I appreciate all the support you guys are giving me. It makes me want to keep writing and publishing!

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 5: When Grief Strikes**

Waking at first to the feel of being wrapped in a warm blanket, Giselle felt even moving would be difficult. She felt groggy, her head was pounding and her muscles ached, too.

For some time, she revelled in the dark oblivion. She was rising in air with every breath, feeling lighter and lighter as sleep almost overtook her again.

'... and when you are awake, you will be completely alright.'

Suddenly, Healer Bronze's words reverberated in her head, snatching her out of the clutches of darkness.

She instantly opened her eyes to the empty room, but for the house-elf sitting in a corner. Where is the Healer, she wondered. Still feeling groggy and tired, wanting nothing more that going back to sleep, she tried to sit up. The rustling of sheets grabbed the elf's attention. She came to Giselle's side with a low bow.

"Do Miss Potter wanting something?" She asked respectfully. "Linky be getting Miss anything Miss wanting."

"Just a glass of water will be fine, if it isn't too much trouble," Giselle asked, feeling a little shy. She had never been fond of asking the elves for help, anyway. She had personally known only three elves well—Dobby, Winky and Kreacher—all so different from one another. Despite Kreacher being legally her own house-elf, she knew she would never order him around. But Kreacher reminded her of...Sirius...and his death.

And that made her loathe the obnoxious elf even more! Sometimes, she thought of giving him a piece of clothing, but as Dumbledore had said—he knew too much about the Order to be dismissed.

Well, true that was.

Linky quickly conjured a glass of fresh, cold water for her. Giselle felt relieved when the cold water rinsed her throat down.

She handed the glass back to the elf with a polite 'thank you'.

It was quite strange that she had woken but Madam Pomphrey and Healer Bronze were nowhere to be seen. For a moment, she considered going outside and calling her. She was wondering if she could finally leave if the procedure was over—which was, as promised by the Healer. But she did not trust herself to walk without fainting on her very first step.

'... and when you are awake, you will be completely alright.'

The words still echoed in her head. Well, she could not feel any significant changes in her body, anyway, and assumed that the process was not too complicated.

But she at the very least, felt less worried and less disgusted. That nasty feeling of being used had gone.

She settled back in the pillows, feeling tired enough. She could see the Healers later and ask them how the abortion went. Honestly, she was more than disinterested in knowing anything regarding it. The mere fact that she was free of that curse was enough for her to live in ignorance. It had been a shock when she had first discovered, almost like a heart attack!

Oh, she did not want to remember the day but it involuntarily ran through her mind.

*******THTP*****THTP**

_It was only two or three days back, when she was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, along with Ron and Hermione. It was quite rare for her to sit in the noisy room lately, for the hubbub gave her a kind of anxiety. Too many people triggered a state of panic in her since after the events of summer... Not just noise, people in general affected her... But that day, fortunately, students were out for the first Hogsmeade Weekend of the year._

_The trio did not even bother to go on the outing, both Ron and Hermione made lame excuses to miss the trip, but Giselle was well aware that they did not go because of her. They did not even ask her if she was planning on going as the mere idea of leaving the castle and taking a walk by the Black Lake terrified her._

_Everyday, a task as simple as leaving the dormitory and going to the Great Hall intimidated her, let alone a trip to the crowded village._

_Although she had never expressed it to them, her friends understood her distress._

_As well as making her grateful to them for not leaving her alone, Giselle was also angry for their pity._

_Well, angry was the usual mood she was in, those days._

_Angry over people who might suddenly get to know what happened with her; angry over teachers who paid too much attention since the ordeal; angry over books in which she could not concentrate anymore; angry over classes where she had to bear the Slytherins who knew of the horrors imposed upon her; angry over Hermione's constant nagging of her to eat; angry over Ron cautiousness to be mindful of never touching her, for she flinched every time somebody even came close to her; angry over Mrs. Weasley's letters, reminding her of the mother she was missing; angry over Remus for not bothering to visit her, reminding her of the father she never had; angry over Neville as he reminded her of the Department of Mysteries and Sirius' death; and mostly angry over herself for not able to fight back when that monster violated her! Furious with herself for being weak! Flustered with her own self for not able to pronounce the bastard's name again for the fear that he might somehow abduct her again!_

_"Have you finished your Astronomy Essay, Hermione?" Ron asked with a pretentious innocent smile._

_"I am not going to let you cheat, Ronald!" Hermione retorted sternly._

_"Oh, c'mon, Hermione," he drawled, "It's hardly cheating. We're not appearing for an exam!"_

_He yawned noisily, earning another scolding from Hermione about manners._

_"It is cheating, anyway," she declared. "I can go through your Essay for you, nothing more. Now, hand me your Essay."_

_"I haven't written it yet..." Ron said sheepishly._

_Giselle, meanwhile, was sitting quietly. She never took part in their arguments anymore, not even in order to solve them._

_It seemed so trivial to her... So meaningless fighting over an Essay._

_She usually found herself waiting for the day to end or the days to end... Waiting for nothing but an ending. She could see no path beyond, no way to go._

_Giselle was grateful that they did not raise her voice, though._

_"Still not written!" Hermione pursed her lips, almost imitating Professor McGonagall. "Do you know when it was given?"_

_"Er..."_

_"On the 20th!" Hermione huffed. "And it is the 28th today. Tomorrow is the submission!"_

_Something struck Giselle, instantly compelling her to withdraw from her stupor._

_"It is the 28th?" She whispered to herself. "28th of September?"_

_Which meant it had been... She gasped. Fear slithered down her spine, taking each of her nerves in its grasp._

_"When was I... When did they bring me here?" She asked, hardly managing to speak._

_Hermione looked at her with concern. "Why are you asking that all of a sudden?"_

_"What was the date?" She ignored the other girl completely._

_"3rd, I think," Ron replied. "But why?"_

_"And...and when did they...when was I..." Giselle could not finish her sentence. But her friends understood, nevertheless._

_"On August 17th, maybe," Hermione answered._

_The world started spinning before her eyes._

_The last time she was down was in the beginning of August and it was the ending of September... Fear took her in its clutches tightly as her mind started knitting conclusions._

_It had taken all her self-control to not faint. She returned to her dorm and asked Hermione for some time alone. Though het friend looked reluctant, she let her._

_That evening, she had made her way to the Hospital Wing under her father's cloak. It was hard enough to walk in the corridors all alone, but not being visible had helped._

_Like that, she had successfully stolen from Madam Pomphrey's cupboard a Magical-Pregnancy-Kit._

_To Merlin, to Jesus, she had prayed to them all that entire night for her fear not to become a dreaded reality. But it was not the first time that her prayers were not heard..._

_In the following morning, when Parvati and Lavender were fast asleep and after Hermione left for the library, she had made her way to the bathroom._

_Casting a Silencio, she had done the test with shaking hands. The results were quite clear..._

_Nobody heard her scream for the Silencio was intact. If only Hermione was not so thoughtful, Giselle would have been far gone..._

*******THTP*****THTP**

But it was gone, dead! The fungus would not corrupt her any longer, she reminded herself. The deed was done!

But those thoughts were not convincing enough, she decided. there was something hindering her conclusion—something akin to a presence, a power encircling her. It was very subtle, almost negligible, but she somehow felt it but couldn't recognise it...

Maybe, she thought, it was an after effect of...the process. Still, it was not convincing enough.

"Er... Linky?" She called with some hesitation over ordering an elf.

The elf in question wobbled to her quickly.

"Linky, can you, please, let Madam Pomphrey know that I'm awake? I don't know whether I'm supposed to leave or not..."

"Right'way, Miss!" the elf bowed and with a pinch play, popped away.

Giselle hoped that there would be no side effects of the procedure she just underwent. Well, there were side effects of almost everything that she had gone through in the previous days...

She had felt physically weaker, had lost her appetite and probably growing insomniac, too, with the passing days. Not to mention, the nightmares and the constant feeling of sadness along with occasional anxiety episodes and outbursts.

Bodily scars were, fortunately, mostly healed, barring the remnants of the Dark Mark. Headmaster Dumbledore, as she was told, had put in great efforts in vanishing the Mark frok her arm along with any magical bonds it had. But there was a red-black patch left of her arm, which she made sure to hide from view.

Another Scar given by the bastard!

Empty rooms gave her both—solace and fear. It reminded her of the defeating silence of the basement...that horrid basement, as well as the little peace she got when that monster or his pack of devotees was not around.

She shuddered at the thought.

Merlin knew how long it would take her to bury the memories.

*******THTP*****THTP**

The door flung open to admit Madam Pomphrey and Healer Bronze inside.

On seeing her, an expression of relative relief was spread. But it was soon replaced by one of fear and restlessness.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Madam Pomphrey asked, walking to her side. Healer Bronze followed her.

"Er... Fine?" She answered, getting up to sit. Lying down in front of someone always made her feel vulnerable.

"Oh, good, good," she smiled weakly.

Healer Bronze drew her wand out, "I will just conduct a scan or two, if that is fine, Miss Potter?"

Giselle nodded.

The Healer waved her wand over her and a window appeared in thin air. It showed a graph, some numbers and some signs—none of which was decipherable for Giselle. Bronze studied it for a minute, while Pomphrey scribbled somethings in her notepad. Soon, the window was vanished.

"So...when can I leave?" She asked straight away.

The two ladies exchanged glances, but remained quiet.

A knock was heard of the door.

"Poppy, may we come inside?" It was Dumbledore's voice.

Pomphrey glanced at her patient, her hands wringing the notepad in what Giselle easily recognised to be anxiety.

"Yes, please come in," she called.

Dumbledore, followed by Professor McGonagall, Mrs. Weasley and...Professor Snape?—Why is he here?—walked in.

Immediately, Giselle averted her eyes from the man. A sense of...embarrassment overpowered her as it always did, after those events... It had been tough to be in his class as it was.

She always took the last seat in his class, far, far away from the man. He reminded her too much about her days in hell, of her vulnerability.

"Giselle," Mrs. Weasley's voice was low and sweet, she sat beside her on the stool. "How are you?"

Groggy, uncomfortable and unwell—remained unsaid.

"Fine, thank you," she voiced. "Glad that it's over..."

Mrs. Weasley shoulders fell low as well as eyes.

"Albus..." She heard Pomphrey whispering to the Headmaster.

To which, the kind man nodded and stepped closer to her bed. Giselle noticed that his blue eyes had lost their twinkling charm.

There was something not right, she knew. A wave of cold fear rushed through her veins.

"Giselle, child," he started in his soothing tone. "Actually-"

"It's not over, is it?" Giselle could not recognise her own voice. It was steely and flat, low yet screaming.

"Well..." He shook his head only slightly, but enough for her to decipher.

Another wave of fear hit her and enveloped her in its cold embrace.

"Giselle, dear," Mrs. Weasley's cautious voice was only a low murmur. "They tried their very best. But it can...cost you your life, dear..."

It grew more and distinct with every word, every syllable—replaced by the defeating silence of the basement. People disappeared from her view, the room vanished, leaving her alone on the horrid silence.

What followed was oblivion.

**_THTP_**

The girl visibly lost herself while Molly Weasley continued to speak. Her pupils were mildly diluted and her face left all expressions.

She was not hearing the woman, she was someplace else.

"Quiet!" Snape shushed the woman unceremoniously.

Ignoring her, he walked closer to Potter's bed where the girl sat, not moving.

"Potter?" He tried, knowing the result. "Potter, can you hear me?"

No response. She was far gone.

"What is happening?" Minerva gasped. Snape raised his hand to quieten her. But he heard Poppy muttering 'Flashback' to her.

_Flashback, indeed._

Snape slowly brought a wary hand towards her. He waved it in front of her. Her eyes remained unmoving, staring into nothingness.

"Severus-" Albus was also shushed by him.

_These idiots know not a thing about flashbacks!_

He brought his hand closer to her. When there was no effect, no flinching or gasping, he, very gingerly, placed it on the girl's shoulder.

The effects were immediate.

Potter threw his hand away violently. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" She cried painfully loud.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! STAY AWAY! DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Her cries reverberated in the room. Snape moved away from her, yet standing by her bedside. Mrs. Weasley on her feet, and just the rest of them, baffled at her(not so) appalling reaction.

Potter brought her hand to her ears, shutting them. Her cries soon became screams, heart-wrenching scream with no words but only agony. She was shaking and rocking back and forth, her screams never subsiding.

"Merlin!" Poppy gasped. "Let mr give her a calming draught!"

"Wait!" Snape stopped her.

"Severus, let her!" Minerva snapped angrily.

"Minerva, Severus knows how to handle this," Albus said in his defence.

Snape looked at his employer for approval. On receiving a nod, he again stepped closer to the girl.

"Potter!" His voice was stern and louder. "Potter, quiet!"

As expected, she kept screaming.

"Severus, what are you-" But Minerva's sentence was cut by a sharp, resounding SMACK!

The girl was silent again.

She brought one shaky hand of hers to her left cheek. She was moving again and so were her eyes.

Snape clenched his hand into a fist. "I apologise," he muttered tersely, stepping away.

In his entire life, he had made and broken many resolutions, but one that remained intact—to that day, at least—was of not hitting children.

_Potter, you never fail to try me, do you!_

"Child..." Mrs. Weasley, gingerly, set a calming hand on her arm. When she did not flinch, she slowly lowered her to side, wrapping the shaking girl in an embrace.

She caressed her head slowly, patting her shoulders soothingly, muttering some incoherent words to calm her down.

Snape again regretted having made the reckless deciding of housing her. Damn it!He was more than unfit to manage a distraught teenager. The level of comfort the mother of the red-heads seemed to be providing the girl was unachievable for the dour Potions Master.

"Don't...don't make me do this..." She whisper so low that could have easily gone unheard, if not for the absolutely noiseless room.

The woman, herself, had tears running down her cheeks. But as for the girl, her face was a mask of nothingness. Her eyes were dry, Snape noted.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: Tis story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**A/N**: Thank you for showing your love for the story. I appreciate all the support you guys are giving me.

But it has become so hectic to work on this site... I don't know why this platform is _**not writer-friendly**_. It takes a hell lot of efforts to upload a chapter here. All the text in italic or bold is converted into normal text. I have to edit everything again and even after saving it, it sometimes gets converted into the normal font. I don't know if writing here would be possible for long with problems like these. **If you guys have a solution for my problem, please help...as I'm new here...**

**THTP*****THTP***** **

**Chapter 6: When Dreams Are Blank**

"I offer my sincere apologies, Headmaster, for the maltreatment of Miss Potter in the Hospital Wing," Severus' words resembled a formal written letter. "I am cognizant of the rules of Hogwarts and that my actions are punishable, but it was my last resort to bring the girl back to her senses. I am ready to take up the responsibility for my act."

Albus smiled at his ex-student and current employee kindly. For Severus, manhandling a student, a child, went deeper that just breaking a school rule.

"My boy, I have never doubted your intentions," he said calmly. "Now, have a seat, Severus. We have much to discuss."

As the younger man took a seat in his office, Albus took out a small tin from his drawer and offered it to Severus, "Lemon drops?" Severus glared at the older man before curtly declining. "I am not going to be penalising you for helping Giselle, Severus. It was called for, so don't feel guilty about it." But the other man did not reply.

"Tea, Severus?" Albus asked.

Unlike the curt rejection to the Lemon Drops, he nodded. Dumbledore called his personal house-elf and ordered tea for themselves. It was only after tea was served that they continued their discussion. In the meantime, they discussed lighter topics like the lesson plan and the teaching curriculum of the year.

Severus took a sip from his cup and placed it back on the saucer.

"Albus," he said with a sense of sincerity, "Pray tell me, do I seem to be suffering from any kind of diseases?"

Albus looked up at him with uncertainty before replying, "Of course, not. What kind of disease?"

"Disease such as diabetes," Snape clarified. "Do you find me suffering from the Muggle illness?"

"No," Dumbledore replied, at a complete loss of words.

"Then, why," Snape said, "May I ask is the reason for serving me sugar-less tea today?"

After a moment of staring at his employee, Albus burst into a fit of laughter. "Let me quote you, my boy, spare me the drama!"

"I surmise your personal elf has his grudges against me. For it was hardly the first time I was subjected to a delicacy like this," Snape rolled his eyes and banished the tea with a flick of his wand. He was visibly annoyed which the older man enjoyed heartily. "Now, if you are sated with the treatment of your elf of me, let us move onto the more pressing matters at hand."

"Of course, my boy," Albus straightened into his seat. "I have written to Horace for taking up his previous job again, for a year, until you return."

"And did he send his confirmation?" Snape asked.

"He needs a little convincing, yes, but he is an old friend. I am quite sure he will agree," he replied. "I have told him that you will be going to the States to lead a study in Potions that will take at least a year."

"And he bought that?" Snape rolled his eyes again. "Slughorn is a qualified Potioneer himself. Had such a study been conducted, he would have known. Thick as a shell, that man."

"I would say that things are working in our favour, instead," Albus smiled. "He is gaining age, too. It might have skipped his notice."

"Skipped!" Snape snorted. "An old habit of his, I must say."

Severus, Albus knew, never liked his old Potions Professor and Head of House.

That story went long back. That particular character had played an important role in Severus' life which has shaped his personality as a Professor and Head of House, till that day. Usually, students learn from their teachers. But Severus had learnt what not to learn from his Professors, mainly Horace.

Ignorant, as Severus said, is a term too euphemistic to be used to describe the man. In the Potions Master's words, if anybody could compete with Sybill Trelawney in the teaching profession, it could only be Horace Slughorn. But Albus did not blame the man. He rather blamed his own sense of judgment in appointing teachers. "It is only for a year, Severus," he assured the other man. "Once you are back, Horace will resume his retirement."

"About that, Albus," Snape said. "I have my doubts at being assigned to Potter's aid."

"Are you having second thoughts, my boy?" Albus asked innocently. "Do you find yourself not...sufficient to be taking up the duty?" A smirk hidden in his long beard skipped the Potion Master's eyes. He scowled in annoyance and the Headmaster knew that he had hit the bull's eye. Doubting Severus was equivalent to challenging Severus. Calling his 'inept' was...well, not a good idea. But it would work in his favour, Albus knew.

"Pardon me, Headmaster, but I was implying no such thing!" Snape almost spat. "I was merely saying that if you have your ideas of the Potter girl being, Merlin forbid, coddled by me, you are awfully mistaken. I will play no such roles as Molly Weasley did, in the Hospital Wing, today. I can merely provide her with the—utmost—security and apply my little knowledge of Anatomy and Potions to her use."

"Just train her, Severus," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "That is all she needs."

"Train her? In what? Changing diapers?!" He spat. "Not exactly my area of expertise."

"Train her in defending herself," the older man explained. "There is a war she has to fight. She needs intense training to be able to win-"

"What kind of training do you suppose I should give her in her condition!" Severus was on his feet.

"She should know how to defend herself, unlike the last time-" But before that sentence could be finished, Snape hit the desk in exasperation. "Last time?! Last time, Headmaster, I must remind you if you have forgotten, it was the failure of the Order guards you appointed to Surrey—that the girl was abducted! So perhaps, your point of focus should rather be your own cabal of self-proclaimed Aurors!"

"Now, now, my boy," Dumbledore's voice was still calm. "I understand that you are angry with the Order, but it should now be Giselle who should know how to protect herself—and now, with another life depending on her, it becomes even more important."

"This is not all that she needs!" Snape frowned. "How do you suppose I am to handle a distraught teenager in her emotional outbursts!"

"We are in the midst of a deadly battle, Severus," Albus spoke in a low whisper. "Outbursts are the least we have the time to be bothered about. Convert these outbursts into her greatest strength. Make her strong so she becomes unbreakable in the battlefield. Emotions can be put to good use."

Snape kept his glare intact on the older man. He was flummoxed, seemingly. But when he spoke, the words came out smoothly. "Sometimes, Albus, I feel that you are more insensitive than I, myself."

"Well, my boy, all for the greater good," Dumbledore sighed resignedly.

*_******THTP*****THTP**_

A plate full of eggs and bacon laid idle in front of Ron, untouched. The Great Hall was submerged in students chatting and laughing.

What the hell are these baboons so happy about! He felt angrier than ever. What the hell were they thinking, asking her to keep that baby! Not for the first time, he kicked the ground.

"Hey, Ron!" Dean Thomas nudged him from where he was seated beside him. "Ain't you not gonna eat up? What can be so pressing to have you lose your appetite, mate?" He snickered along with his friend, Seamus Finnigan.

"Shove off!" Ron muttered.

"Hey, where's Granger- And when is Potter coming back?" Dean asked. "What was it? Head injury?"

"Hand," he corrected him irritably, going on with McGonagall's story. "Head and hand."

"Yeah. So, when's she coming?" Seamus asked.

"I don't know," Ron muttered disinterestedly.

"How does she manage to get into trouble every time is beyond me," Seamus laughed, soon joined by Dean.

"You know what else is beyond you, Finnigan?" Ron said with gritting teeth. "That self awareness that you were supposed to be having about the level of thickness your brain possesses." With that, Ron got to his feet and left before the other boy could get around his words.

_Bloody hell!_

_To hell with Finnigan! To hell with Pomphrey! To hell with that Healer!_

_How dare they!_

Ron strode down the corridor, leading to the stone staircase, then down to the library.

Hermione had spent the last couple of days mostly among books of Potions and Herbs, trying to find a solution for Giselle.

But there seemed to be more than one problem there. Since the revelation that...that spawn of that monster could not be...tampered with, Giselle had gone lost, somewhere deep.

She didn't talk, didn't eat, didn't even cry.

His mother had been with her since, but Giselle had not been responding to anyone, anything.

She was, in simple words, dazed.

It hurt to see her like that—like a lifeless statue.

Ron angrily wiped his forearm against his eyes. He quickly made his way in the library. It was empty except the librarian and the bushy-haired girl. Hermione was sitting on the farthest table from Madam Pince's desk. Parchments and quills surrounded her plethora of books and journals.

"Did you find anything?" Ron asked. Hermione jumped in surprise before shaking her head. Ron took the seat beside her. "Anything to bring her out of her stupor?"

Hermione closed the book she was reading and sighed deeply.

"She is feeling hopeless... I can imagine. She needs a way out of this."

"And can we help?" He asked.

"Not with the termination of pregnancy," she told him. "But I have found something about babies with very strong magical core."

"And that can help?"

"No, not really," she shook her head again. "But I have read that there have been only two previous cases where the baby or foetus had extremely strong magical core. One in 1802, a Mrs. Kara Schmidt in Germany, who was quite old to bear a child. She had many medical conditions. Even the Healers had said that she could not carry a child in her state. But she was firm on her decision."

She picked up a book from the bundle and opened to a page.

"Look, that's her," she gave the book to Ron.

A sketch of a woman in her mid fifties, carrying a healthy infant was drawn on the side of the long paragraphs. "I get it, but how is it related to Giselle?" Ron handed the book back to Hermione.

"The woman was very old and weak," she continued. "Yet, the baby was born healthy. During her delivery- Ronald! There is nothing gross about it! During her delivery, she was sinking—'just an inch to her death', as the book says. But the magic of the child saved her."

"So?" Ron was still at a complete loss.

"Jesus!" Hermione huffed. "Ron, that means that children with such strong magical core can also protect the mother, if in danger. And Giselle's baby-"

"Hermione! It is not HER baby!" He rolled his eyes.

"Whatever we may call it, but that baby is protecting Giselle, as well," she finished. "Madam Pomphrey also thinks something like that, doesn't she?"

"But that doesn't mean that we'll let that baby destroy Giselle!" Ron exclaimed. "And honestly, anything related to You-Know-Who can never be good for anyone. Child of a monster is deemed to be a monster!"

"Hush, Ron," she shushed him. "Be soft. Alright, just listen to the next story."

"What is all this proving?!" Ron shrugged. "You can't tell these stories to Giselle and convince her that whatever is happening is nice and dandy."

"No, but..." She sighed. "Look, Ron, it's like...doing anything to the baby is like putting Giselle in grave danger. Madam Pomphrey also said that. We need to make her understand this."

"I don't know how we're going to convince her of this!" Ron muttered.

Hermione flipped the pages to the end of the book. "The other example," she started. Ron seemed uninterested though. "Around 1692, the year is not clear—during the infamous Salem Witch Trials-" Ron's face screwed up again, "-another such case in the Wizarding community of Morocco took place."

"Morocco? Africa?" Ron asked.

"North Africa, yes," she continued. "There was this lady, Zakira Alami, a witch-"

"But the Salem trials took place in the United States," Ron frowned.

"Listen to me, will you?" A Hermione threw a glare at him. "So this witch—she belonged to Morocco—was in Massachusetts during the trial. She was pregnant. Dpuring the trials, she was also captivated. But somehow, she successfully apparated from her captivity—which was next to impossible. But she somehow gained the inexorable power to apparate, unlike the rest of them."

"Why couldn't the rest of them

apparate?" He asked, now seemingly more interested.

"Because they were all bound, manually bound... They did not have any wands, too," she explained.

"How can you be so sure that it was her child who helped her flee?" Ron raised his doubts. "It could also be that she was a more powerful witch that the rest."

"It could be, but it is her own account from which I am telling you," she showed him the page. Long paragraphs were printed, under which the name 'Zakaira Alami' was written.

"Why would she lie about her own greatness of power?"

Ron studied the matter in a glance, then closed the book. "I don't know, Hermione... It's nice and all but...Giselle..."

"I know, it's not enough to give her any solace with the fact that she did not...sign up for it," Hermione sighed deeply.

"I want to kill the bloody bastard!"

Ron was gritting his teeth. "Not just kill him, I will make him suffer the bloody same pain! That son of a-"

"Ron," she placed her hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner. He buried his face in his face, feeling exhausted.

That bastard will suffer at my hands, even if it's the bloody last thing I do!

**_*****THTP*****THTP_**

_"The birdy, Mum! I want that birdy!" Little Dudley ran after a tiny butterfly with his net._

_"Go, Dudders! Catch that thing, son!" Uncle Vernon cried in excessive pride._

_The butterfly fluttered its wings back and forth, tried with all its remaining life to fly, to be free, to rise up and up and up. But how could it? It was confined, caged!_

_The net bound it._

_But Dudley grinned at the poor creature as it fought and fought until it eventually breath its last._

_"Why isn't it moving, anymore!" He shrieked in frustration._

_"It died, I think," Aunt Petunia said casually._

_"Died!" Dudley jerked the net forgetfully and the little, lifeless butterfly was thrown to the ground. He stepped on it, crushing it brutally, until nothing was left... Absolutely nothing._

"Giselle, dear?"

Mrs. Weasley soft voice suddenly brought her back from the horrible memory. She was still in the Hospital Wing. That same room. She looked at the kind face of Mrs. Weasley blankly.

"The Headmaster wants to see you, dear," she informed her. "Why don't you freshen up and change first."

"What day is it?" She asked in a tone as blank. The last thing she remembered was... There was a clutter of events, all mingled in her mind. Wasn't the Headmaster here? When did they tell me about...that?

"It's a Friday, dear," she told her.

"Friday?" Giselle was still at a loss. It had been three or so days since that absurd revelation, but she could hardly remember much of her last few days.

"Fresh clothes are on the chair for you," the lady pointed out for her. "A warm shower will feel good. We don't have a bath here... But the shower will be soothing, I'm sure."

Without as much as another word, she got down from her bed and made her way slowly towards the bathroom. She could feel the fatigue in her muscles from lack of physical activity. Her still bandaged wrist felt almost normal, save for the light stiffness. Her head was spinning, but not enough to make her lose her balance, at least. The shower did feel good. She let the water wash the weakness out. Warm water felt good against her skin.

"It's not over, is it?"

Her own voice echoed in her ears. She turned the faucets to a higher speed to cut the sound off.

"They tried their very best. But it can...cost you your life, dear..."

"Fuck it!" She cursed loudly. Heater anger rose under her skin. She wanted to punch someone, break something!

"I WILL NOT LIVE WITH THIS!" She screamed under the loud patter of water.

She turned to face the mirror. Her fists clenched and unclenched. Giselle glanced around to find anything solid to break the mirror, and with its shattered pieces, she could find her peace.

_Nobody can force me to do this!_

She finally found a heavy bathroom-scrub in a shelf. Without giving it another thought, she threw the piece of solid to the mirror, wanting to hear the satisfying shatter. But it bounced back, falling to the ground.

Giselle gasped.

She touched the mirror, the pressed her hand against it. It had a cushioning charm on it! "No!" She stomp her foot in utter annoyance. First tear threatened to escape her eye. But she never allowed that kind of release.

_How long can you all torture me into this!_

*******THTP*****THTP**

"Please, sit, Albus," Poppy offered her chair to the Headmaster.

Her office was quite spacious, but the shelves were untidily stacked with potion vials—Snape looked around disapprovingly.

Albus sat on the offered seat while Snape took the one opposite him. Poppy and Minerva sat beside him.

Merlin knew how the Potter girl was going to take to the new accommodation. Not with glee, for sure. But if she declined, Surrey was their only option. Snape wondered it she would prefer those infernal Muggles to her dour Professor. Well, if she would, he could be at peace.

"Filius has worked on the Charm which will enable Miss Potter to attend classes from Spinner's End," Minerva informed.

"I would be a fool to take the girl to that wretched house. That place can be easily descried," Severus said in his usual emotionless tone. "We will be taking asylum in the Prince Manor."

"Oh, you finally decide to move in in that house, then," Minerva looked pleased. "It would be a lot better than your current dwelling."

"I never fancied Manors," he stated. "That shabby dwelling was satisfactory for me. But Prince Manor is a haven for Potter."

"So glad to see you being so considerate," Poppy commented snidely.

"My intentions were to provide you with the least amount of glee, believe me," he muttered and Poppy rolled her eyes.

"Have you tried the Charm?" Albus asked, paying no heed to their tiff.

Minerva nodded, "We did and it's very effective. Miss Potter can attend all her classes from home. She will be able to see everyone, but the students, as well as Professors won't get a hint."

"And can I trust you, Severus, with her practical lessons of Potions?" He asked.

"Of course, not," he said with nonchalance. "I will let the girl lie around and waste her days, indulging in self pity and self destruction."

"I take it as a yes, then," the old man smiled.

"Severus," Poppy said, "Just be a little-"

"Choose your words wisely-"

"-kind with her," Minerva finished despite his interruption.

"Minerva, I'm not kind even with the handful of people I do have some respect for!" He retorted.

"She can do well with some compassion!" Poppy huffed.

"I do not possess the art of sympathising, my apologies," he said sardonically.

"But you can at least try to empathise with her, as a human, Severus Snape!" The medi-witch exclaimed.

"I have already specified my role to the Headmaster," he said smoothly, knowing how that tone annoyed her. "Do clarity your doubts with him."

Poppy looked at Albus, but he only nodded. She looked unsettled, but Severus made it a point to wear a nasty smirk on his lips. It was, after all, the woman's negligence that they were all stuck in a situation like that.

"What are you going to tell the students, Minerva?" Poppy asked. "I hope they don't connect the absence of both Giselle and Severus and draw their conclusions."

"We will tell them that Miss Potter is suffering from some ailment and is sent to a Healthcare Centre in France," Minerva elaborated.

"And do you think they will believe that?" Poppy raised her eyebrows.

"They might not find the explanation veracious, but at the very least they will not go as far as so to assume Miss Potter to be...you see..."

"I hope that works," she said. "And what about Severus?"

"To lead a study in Potions in the United States," Minerva answered briefly.

"If one comes to consider the excuses closely, they can easily find one thousand loopholes in it," Poppy shook her head, muttering under a breath.

"If you can cook a better story, do share with us," Snape rolled his eyes.

Somebody knocked on the door to the office. Poppy ignored her colleague and went to open the door to a sombre Molly Weasley, followed by an even more morose Potter. Her eyes were fixed to the ground as she walked behind the red-headed woman. The two sat together, taking seats beside the Medi-witch.

"Good afternoon, Giselle," Albus was too cheery for a day like that.

"'Noon, 'dmaster," She blabbered in her mouth.

"How are you, my girl?" He asked blithely.

Snape closed his eyes—_what kind of a question is this!_

She never answered.

_Expected_. He smirked inwardly.

"Well," Albus dismissed not bring answered. "We have many things to discuss. Would you like to have tea?" The girl shook her head almost negligibly.

"Some chamomile tea would be good for you," Poppy suggested.

When she ceased to reply, Albus called his elf and ordered tea for everyone, with a cup of Chamomile for Potter.

With the tray of steaming cup arrived, Mrs. Weasley handed a cup to the girl, and Severus vaguely wondered if on hearing of her new arrangements, the delicate piece of China would be dropped to the carpeted floor.

"Try some, dear," Mrs. Weasley insisted. Slowly and almost disinterestedly, she took a sip or two—her face remaining blank.

"Giselle," Dumbledore said, grabbing her attention. "Now that we have an issue at hand, we have decided to give our wholehearted support to you and the coming ba-"

"Headmaster," Severus whispered. He glared at the coot who was too keen upon using specified terms. Single slip of the tongue could send the girl back in another horrid flashback.

"Support to you in the current scenario," he rephrased his statement, but Potter seemed to have close to no impact. "As staying at Hogwarts can prove to be dangerous at the moment," he said, "We have—collectively—decided to re-accommodate you to a place where you can be safer and more, let us say, comfortable."

Comfortable? Severus wanted to snort. Potter would find the idea of having to stay under the same roof as him anything but comforting.

"After going through a lot of considerations," the Headmaster spoke, "We have reached to the conclusions that having to stay with an experienced Order member will work in our favour."

_Cut the drama!_

"Thus, we think, staying with a Hogwarts professor would be be fitting," he stated. "And who better that Professor Snape?"

Severus waited for another outburst of tirade, strong arguments against the reckless decision or at least the satisfying shatter of china.

But they never came.

Potter's face remained expressionless. Straight!

"Did you hear him, dear?" Molly Weasley asked.

Potter gave a slight nod. "I did."

Nobody spoke for a couple of minutes. Snape liked mysteries and enigmatic people, but Potter's behaviour was infuriating. She did not refute, did not give away anything to express her rejection or opinion in general.

Was that far gone the girl was?

How damaged could she be to have no reaction at all at the prospect of living with her most abhorrent Professor!

"Do you have any questions?" Minerva finally broke the silence.

_C'mon, Potter! Speak your mind or you will be stuck with me!_

"No," she replied, almost inaudibly.

"Very well, then..." an equally baffled Albus muttered.

What is wrong with you, Potter! How much is wrong with you!

If only he could know...

_What have I gotten myself into!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**A/N**: Thank you so much for your reviews. I really appreciate all the support you guys are giving me.

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 7: Time To Go**

.

"Ridiculous!" Ron shrieked. "How the fuck can that prat be trusted with her! What an absolutely ridiculous idea! What the fuck was Dumbledore doing!"

Hermione let him vent, if hurling abuses calmed him, she decided to let him. There was nobody by the Black Lake, making his voice piercing.

"Dumbledore is getting far too old to think sanely!" Ginny, too, joined her brother. "And that git, Snape, Merlin knows what he plans to do with her. I won't be shocked if he uses her as a Potion ingredient!"

"That bloody, greasy git!" Ron kicked the wall. "I will kill him!"

"He was the one who saved her, if you remember," Hermione's tone was neutral, yet enough to quiten the two. "He lost his position as a spy because he had to blow up his cover to save our Giselle."

The siblings looked at each other with some realisation, then sighed in unison.

"But that doesn't change the fact that he hates Giselle," Ron pointed out. "He doesn't have a shred of sympathy for her, you have seen him in class."

"What matters to me, Ron, is that had he not been brave enough, we would have lost our friend—forever," Hermione's tone was lowered to a whisper. "So if he claims to look after her, I cannot help but believe that he would, at least, not let harm come her way."

"No matter how much he mentally tortures her?" Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Is it not equally important?"

"It is," Hermione turned to look at her. "But just think, Ginny, if not Snape, where would she go? The other option is her relatives' place."

"Why couldn't she live at our house?!" Ginny sat on the grass. "Mom, Dad would look after her so damn well."

"The wards, you know," Hermione sighed.

"But, Hermione," she could hear the desperation in Ron's voice, "Haven't you ever noticed how she practically flinches each time somebody even brushes past her. She is so visibly uncomfortable around guys. And now she'd have to stay with only Snape! Don't you see how uncomfortable it will make her."

"I am sure she must have thought of that before saying yes," Hermione said. "And, Ron, Snape is the one who rescued her. Maybe she doesn't feel uncomfortable around him as much..."

"That is the most ridiculous explanation you have ever given," Ginny rolled her eyes. "By that logic, she should feel fine around everyone because nobody was involved in her captivity except You-Know-Who. Fine, Snape rescued her and all, but none of the others ever hurt her, either."

"I don't know, Ginny," Hermione said irritably. "But I can think of no other explanation."

"Maybe they forced her to accept," Ron muttered.

"They did not, Mrs. Weasley was right there," she reminded him.

"I think we should ask Giselle only," Ginny suggested. "What say?"

"But we won't nag her much," Hermione announced. "I don't want her to get all stressed."

"As if she already isn't," Ron muttered bitterly.

*******THTP*****THTP**

"Your trunk is packed, dear," Mrs. Weasley descended her levitating trunk in a corner of the private room. "Check ones if you have everything in there."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Giselle mumbled. She opened the trunk and rummaged through its contents. Some pairs of robes, a spare set of school uniform, her school books and parchments, Dudley's oversized hand-me-downs, her father's cloak, the marauder's map, her photo album and her beloved Firebolt.

_Sirius..._

She closed her eyes and slightly shook her head. Sirius was gone and it was her fault—_maybe that's why I'm being published, for getting you killed, Sirius... Maybe I do deserve it..._

"Do you have everything there?" The lady asked. Giselle nodded, closing the trunk again.

"Let's get some food into you, then," she asked, leading Giselle to the set of chairs and a table in the other corner. A tray carrying a rich breakfast of bacon and eggs along with mashed potatoes and pumpkin juice. A slice of brownie waited for its turn in another dish.

"I'm not really hungry," she said, however she sat at the table.

"Nonsense, dear," Mrs. Weasley sat opposite her. "I won't hear a word now. No more skipping meals, child."

Giselle didn't protest. So futile an issue—but she really didn't have an appetite anymore. In her first years, she remembered, mealtimes were what Ron and she always waited for. They had their plates stacked with every delicacy on the table. The idea of eating would never appeal to her now.

Mrs. Weasley served her her share of food and poured her a glass of fresh pumpkin juice. "C'mon now."

But maybe it was the smell of bacon that brought the nausea back. It was an everyday story. Her mornings were greeted by nausea and dizziness. A reluctant trip to the bathroom was all that Mrs. Weasley needed to stop pestering her for eating.

Giselle laid down on the bed, facing away from the tray, while the other woman vanished the food away. She came and sat on the stool beside her bed. Giselle knew what she was going to say.

"Professor Snape will apparate both of you to his house in about two hours... Giselle, child, are you ready?"

"Yes, my luggage is-"

"You know what I mean, dear," she said softly.

_Ready?_ To go to Snape's house? No, she wasn't. She could never in her right mind even think of going to stay with Professors Snape! But they had collectively decided for her—just the way people always decided for her. She would play Quidditch like her father, she would not want to know about his Godfather, she would be the champion of the Tri-wizard Tournament, she would be the Saviour of the Wizarding World—others decided everything for her.

Just as they had decided that she would not get rid of that thing! Just as they had decided that she would be better off with Snape og all people!

But at least, it was not the Dursleys they had chosen for her. Not after they had abandoned her. Well, she was, after all, an abandoned orphan—what choice did she have? Where would she go, if not where they wanted her to? Stay in Hogwarts and let the world know of her shameful condition and propagandize that she was defeated by You-Know-Who? That when it was her chance to fight back, she failed—miserably so. That it was because of the killer of her parents that she was-

"Child?"

"I am ready."

The other woman sighed, "I know, it's a lot to take in, dear. It is a responsibility that threatens even those double your age."

_Responsibility?_ She had no responsibility towards that thing!The only responsibility she had was of getting rid of it—forever! She would not allow that thing to corrupt her! If the mere thought of it could shoot fury in her veins, its actual presence would be enough to destroy her completely. If anything, it was a curse!

"I think I should give you a briefing, Giselle," Mrs. Weasley continued. "This phase will be quite challenging for you. We were all so busy with the other arrangements that nobody could talk to you of what to expect."

She continued, "To begin with, there are some precautions that you need to take... Like not lifting heavy objects, not climbing too many stairs, not eating very spicy food-"

"I am tired, Mrs. Weasley," she interrupted. "Can I please sleep for some time?"

She looked at her with nothing but sympathy—which threw daggers at her. "Of course, dear." She sighed. "Ron and Hermione wanted to see you before you leave..."

And make her reason out why she accepted to go to Snape's? No. She did not have the energy or will to do that. But then it could be the last time they could meet for the next many months. Surely, Snape would not let her meet her friends in his 'confinement'.

But the idea of facing the same questions again...

"I'm...tired, Mrs. Weasley..."

"That's alright, dear, they will understand," the woman smiled at her. "You still have some time before you go, have some rest."

The lady got up and left the room to give her some quiet. Giselle wondered if Snape would allow her to write to her friends, at least...

**_THTP_**

_Giselle followed Mrs. Weasley out of the room, entering a small passage, with a door at the end. The lady knocked on the door to the office._

_Giselle had remained close behind her, partially out of anxiety of what the Headmaster wanted to say to her... If he was about to make her condition public, she didn't know how she would react. But how was she going to live at Hogwarts, keeping the other residents in the dark..._

_It was Madam Pomphrey who had opened the door for them. She had simply followed Mrs. Weasley in. Professor Dumbledore, McGongall and Snape—the three were seared inside. She avoided any eye contact within either of them. Especially with Snape... A mere glance at the man made her squirm in discomfort. He reminded her of her days in the hell and about her vulnerability on the night she was rescued._

_Mrs. Weasley led her to sit beside the Medi-witch._

_"Good afternoon, Giselle," the Headmaster said cheerfully._

_"'Noon, 'dmaster," She mumbled._

_"How are you, my girl?" He asked blithely._

_Alive. She remained silent._

_"Well," Dumbledore continued, anyway. "We have many things to discuss. Would you like to have tea?"_

_Giselle shook her head._

_"Some chamomile tea would be good for you," Poppy suggested._

_The idea of anything edible made her sick. Dumbledore, anyway, called an elf and ordered tea for everyone along with a cup of Chamomile Tea for her. Perhaps, her lack of answer was perceived as her agreement._

_She waited for Dumbledore to break his silence and reveal the reason for the meeting. But until the elf brought the tea, nobody spoke. Mrs. Weasley handed a cup to the her._

_"Try some, dear," Mrs. Weasley said softly. The lady had not left her side for a moment since arriving at Hogwarts... Giselle was grateful to her. Her presence provided a little security that she lacked every time she was left alone, exposed to her thoughts. She took a small sip of the tea, letting the warmth comfort her._

_"Giselle," Dumbledore finally said. "Now that we have an issue at hand, we have decided to give our wholehearted support to you and the coming ba-"_

_Stop!_

_"Headmaster," Snape whispered to her relief. She quirked her eyes up at him to find the man glaring at the Headmaster. Why would he..._

_"Support to you in the current scenario," he rephrased.. "As staying at Hogwarts can prove to be dangerous at the moment," he said, "We have—collectively—decided to re-accommodate you to a place where you can be safer and more, let us say, comfortable."_

_You are throwing me out, then. Am I such a disgust? If she would allow the comfort of tears, one would have rolled down her cheek. Orphan as she was, Hogwarts was the only place she had ever felt belonged... But perhaps, no place is home but your own home—which had not._

_They were going to send her to the Dursleys...she knew! That wretched house, those people... Uncle Vernon's threats and Aunt Petunia's taunts—that place which would time and again remind her of her abduction, of how she could put up no fight to defend herself._

_"After going through a lot of considerations," the Headmaster continued, "We have reached to the conclusions that having to stay with an experienced Order member will work in our favour."_

_The first person that crossed her mind was Remus. Maybe, Dumbledore would let her stay with him. But Remus never so angry with her... So, so angry with her for killing Sirius... He would never let her stay with him. But Remus was all she had closest to a father..._

_The Weasleys? If not Remus, perhaps she could stay with the Weasleys. But the idea of living in a house packed with seven males threatened her. She could not bear the presence of so many people in a house, so many male members... Giselle hated herself for being so coward! A part of her criticised her. But the other part related to the anxiety and fear she felt—it knew the horror that struck her, the memories that struck her every time somebody approached her._

_What if he sends me to the Grimmauld Place... She dreaded even the mention of that house. It reminded her so much of Sirius. It led her to the crevices of her mind where she wanted to visit. The image of that infernal veil, Sirius vanishing behind it..._

_"Thus, we think, staying with a Hogwarts professor would be be fitting," he stated. "And who better that Professor Snape?"_

_Snape? No! A corner of her heart, which she had locked away, ached for the parents she didn't have. If only they were there... If Snape was all she was left with—the man who despised her, then perhaps that was her fate. She assumed he must be doing a favour to Dumbledore—a favour!_

_The Headmaster had not asked her, he had informed her. She was deemed to go with the Potions Master because there was no other place left for her, no one else to take her... But if that meant not living with the Dursleys or in the memories of Sirius, she would comply._

_"Did you hear him, dear?" Mrs. asked._

_If that's where I shall go. Giselle gave a slight nod. "I did."_

_Nobody spoke for a couple of minutes—shocked, are you? Giselle didn't protest because what would she fight for when she had no other place to go. Yes, she knew not how she would manage at his house, how she would get over her fear of being alone with an unfamiliar person or combat her panic on seeing him every time, but she would not protest. After all, what other choice did she have._

_"Do you have any questions?" McGonagall asked, breaking the silence._

_You won't have one because of me, Professors. "No," she replied, almost inaudibly._

_"Very well, then..." the Headmaster muttered._

_And her fate was sealed._

*******THTP*****THTP**

"Albus, I suggest that you enquire her again because I am not in the slightest convinced by her approval," Severus demanded. "I expected the girl to protest. If nothing, then argue."

"I think you are used to the hard way, my boy," Albus smiled. He casually tossed another Lemon Drop into his mouth from the open tin.

Snape rolled his eyes in exasperation. The old fool! "And you, Albus, are too thick to read between the lines, it seems."

"Now, now, Severus, there is nothing that suggests otherwise," he said in his usual nonchalance. "If she did not wish to go with you, she would have said at once-"

"Are you completely daft, Headmaster!" To hell with the respect. "She is, at the moment, incapable of making a sound decision for herself!"

"That's why, we are deciding for her," Albus said calmly. "And our decision will only help her."

"I have no idea how I am going to execute what you expect out of me," he muttered. "Train her? She can barely stand. Let alone perform intense and intricate magic."

"I have full faith in you, my boy," the Headmaster said with an encouraging smile.

_To hell with your faith!_ "I am not desperate for validation, Headmaster."

"Severus, you, better than anybody else, know how to manipulate a situation or person into your favour," Snape raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore's statement. "It is a compliment, Severus, of course. We have here a situation—a teen with anger, a lot of anger. You know how to convert that fury into energy, something useful. There is nothing immoral in it."

Snape rubbed his temples. A viscous headache was brewing. Immoral or not, he knew that if that furor was not used for good, the world would see the rise of another power dark. Once again, his shoulders were burdened with a particularly dire responsibility.

_What am I getting into!_

He had played many a roles in his life—a Professor, a double agent, a spy, a Death Eater, an Order member, but one of something akin to a mentor? Well, that was not his area of expertise.

But then again, it was not Dumbledore who compelled him or could, for that matter. It was the guilt—a debt to Lily. If she were alive... But she was not, because of him. So it was only what he could return to the nature. If he didn't take on the responsibility, Lily's daughter would be finished... That guilt had him in its vile clutches.

The aspect of her being the spawn of James Potter had somewhere been overlooked while he had taken on the responsibility. Potter was her father, everything like her father, save for her appearance, of course. She was insufferably stupid, insolent and stubborn! But stubbornness, Snape could use to his benefit. If he could convert James Potter's pertinacity into Lily's determination...

A round of knocking brought Snape back from his contemplations.

"Here they are," Albus mumbled to himself before saying, "Come in, please."

Snape turned to see Molly Weasley entered the Headmaster's office, levitating Potter's trunk after her. The girl followed her, carrying the empty cage of her familiar. Snape averted his eyes from them, looking back at his employer.

**_THTP_**

Giselle's eyes fell upon the Potions Master only when he had turned his back to her. Like that, it was better—not actually having to face the dour man. Maybe she was supposed to be grateful to him for taking her in or maybe apologise to him for being compelled to take her in. Clearly, it was not a decision he had taken on his own. Dumbledore might have assigned him the task or threatened him of taking his job—though it was very unlikely for Snape to be threatened.

So maybe it was an Order assignment for him to keep her alive so that she could fulfil the prophecy—a duty he might have reluctantly took up. She wondered if he was getting an allowance for that. Or if she was supposed to earn her keep.

She was ready to do the chores that he would want her to do—if that was the cost to pay to stay away from public life, she would pay. After all the years of working at the Dursleys, she knew her way around household chores. Though Mrs. Weasley had told her something about a spell to make her attend her classes from wherever the Professor was taking her... Those ideas of having to stay at Snape's place were horrifying but they had claimed the least of her time, for she had matters bigger than her residential arrangements. Matters like how to get rid of the thing; matters like giving up on the torment called life.

"I see Giselle is all ready to go, then," Dumbledore said in a tone too cheery for the day. She did not reply.

"She is, she is," Mrs. Weasley covered up for her, keeping the trunk near the hearth.

"Good, good," the Headmaster smiled. "I think you both should be on your way, Severus."

Giselle kept her eyes everywhere but at the Potions Professor. For a moment, she was inclined towards asking the Headmaster if she could write to her friends but then decided against it. She hardly trusted her voice.

"You can easily apparate from the balcony, it does not have anti-apparation wards on it," Dumbledore got to his feet. "Come."

"Come, dear," Mrs. Weasley put a calming hand on her shoulder only for a brief second. She refrained herself from flinching.

She stole a glance at the lady—_closest to a mother..._ Good thing she couldn't cry anymore.

Dumbledore waved his wand over the portraits. They vanished from the view and a door appeared on the wall, camouflaged. He tapped his wand twice and it opened, lettin the sun in, accompanied with a gush of cold breeze. "Come on."

"Take good care of yourself, child," Mrs. Weasley gave her light squeeze on her hand, far from her usual hugs... Giselle tried to smile back but her lips had forgotten to turn that way, it seemed.

She turned away from her to pick her trunk up from where it was kept near the fireplace. Giselle didn't want Mrs. Weasley to see the disappointment on her face. But before she could pick her trunk up, Snape spoke for the fitst time.

"Let it be, Potter."

He walked to the hearth and with a flick of his wand, shrunk her trunk. He wordlessly picked the small shrunken trunk from the ground and pocketed it in his robes.

She remained standing, perplexed, not knowing what to make out of it. Did he think her incapable or weak for carrying her own trunk? Or was it just out of casual humanity—which he hardly possessed...

"Giselle." Dumbledore called her again, holding the door open for them. She gave a last look to Mrs. Weasley and against her wishes, walked out, into the balcony.

Snape stood there, his face clean of expressions, ready to apparate—willing or not.

"It will be a side-along apparation, Giselle," Dumbledore said. "Just hold onto Professor Snape's arm and he will apparate you along."

_Hold onto?_

The words stung in her ear. No physical contact, no! She clenched and unclenched her fists as a sudden bout of anxiety caught the better of her. Contact irked her, it felt exposing. Human touch made her feel sick! Every time as much as even a brush of fingers felt like snaked slithering on her skin.

"Giselle, go on, my girl," Dumbledore spoke again.

The anxiety rose, making her breaths shorter. She glanced at the Headmaster in uncertainty. Maybe the visible reluctance on her face could make him understand.

"Giselle-"

"Perhaps, Headmaster,"—as Snape's voice cut through, Giselle braced herself for a round of debacle about 'lazying around'—"A portkey would be a better option."

For the briefest of seconds, Giselle fixed her eyes at the Professor in utter disbelief before averting them back down. A silent plea that Dumbledore could not understand, but Snape did. Snape?

"A portkey? But- Right." There was an exchange between the two men that she could not read. "A portkey, then. I do have an emergency portkey."

A wave of relief rushed through her and she released a long-held sigh. No physical contact, thank Merlin. Meanwhile the Headmaster brought his emergency portkey from his office, Mrs. Weasley, too, came out in the balcony.

"If there is any help you need, Professor, feel free to write to me," she said kindly to Snape.

"I appreciate the consideration," Snape's reply was a bit brusque but the lady didn't seem to mind it. She turned to Giselle, giving her an encouraging smile. "Write to me, alright?"

Giselle waited for the man to raise any interjections, but shockingly he did not. Or maybe he refrained from raising any in public.

"I will," she said in a low whisper.

Dumbledore returned, carrying a long, wooden baton along with him. "Here," he handed it to Snape. The Headmaster then tapped the baton twice with his wand. "It will activate in thirty seconds. Hold it, Giselle, tightly."

She finally held onto the piece of wood. Mrs. Weasley bid her farewell, and in no time she felt an uncomfortable tug near her navel and the world around her began spinning. The Headmaster and Mrs. Weasley vanished from the view and soon she found herself in a tornado, spinning towards the said destination.

**_THTP_**

If his grip on the baton was any looser, the girl would have collapsed to the ground. On landing, he had assumed that she would not be too familiar with Portkey-travelling, so he had kept the said object steady for Potter to re-establish her balance.

As expected, she had stumbled but she kept her hold on the stick tight, holding the cage in her other hand firmly. She was seemingly swaying in dizziness but Severus knew that helping her physically would prove even more futile.

The horror that had struck her face on being asked to apparate holding onto him, did not escape his eyes. Or that long sigh of relief when the prospect of apparation was eliminated. He had sensed the brewing panic in her. He inwardly kicked himself for signing up for the duty. How was he supposed to train a girl traumatised enough to even avoid physical contact. How would she ever trust him? He had earlier tried to train her in occluding—marking the greatest failure of career. Because there was a dire dearth of trust. It could only be expected for her to behave in the way that she did—it was a typical behaviour of anyone been through an ordeal such as that. But he was hardly equipped to deal with her!

When she had left the stick, maintaining her balance, he said, "Follow me, Potter."

They had landed near the gates of Prince Manor. It was only a short walk from there. It was in the suburbs, so mostly peaceful. Nobody knew of his inheritance of the Prince family, unlike his house at Spinner's End of which everyone knew. Hardly anybody resided nearby, and even the ones who did were unable to see the Manor due to _Fidelius Charm_ on the Manor. The day before, Dumbledore had increased the number of wards around the house for extra security.

On reaching the exact location, he took a small piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to the girl who was following behind, quietly.

She took the parchment, read it, and handed it back. Snape set the parchment to fire immediately. He heard a small gasp from behind him—as the Manor might have come into her view, too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 8: Away, Away...**

Tilting her head upwards, Giselle shuddered at the surreal display of numerous dark windows, a tall building, surrounded by trees and a long and strong boundary wall. A large gate, black and golden stood high. Two golden serpents stood out in place of locks, emeralds engraved for their eyes.

Snape touched the serpents with his bare hands—Giselle heard a click and the gates opened with a loud squeal. She imagined the gates to be quiet heavy with the way they sounded. "Inside, Potter." He walked inside and she followed. Behind them, the gates shut with a loud thump.

They were on a cobbled path, leading them to a little verandah, a couple of stairs high, and a door. On her right, a lush garden occupied the land. Tall, green trees and well-tamed grass graced the garden. Flowers and buds adorned the beds. On her left, the land was plain. A cane-table along with four chairs sat among some earthen flower pots. A beautiful water fountain under a marble boundary decorated the patch. A soothing sound of flowing water calmed the environment.

The verandah had marble flooring, too, matching with the fountain. Short railings stood like a fence. Another two cane-chairs were kept outside the heavy wooden door with same similar serpents guarding the locks. Snape repeated his previous gesture and the house welcomed its master in.

The first thing that Giselle noticed was almost half a dozen house elves standing in a line. She could hardly suppress her gasp when they all bowed in unison.

"Welcome, Master," one of them spoke in his squeaky voice.

"Thank you, Nectar," Snape replied. "The garden is well-kempt, I have noticed. You did well, Lime." Another elf bowed and thanked him. Giselle wondered how the man actually differentiated between the identical elves.

"Lolly's cleaned the room for the lady, Master," another one of them spoke in evident enthusiasm.

"Thank you, Lolly," he replied.

Giselle could not help but think what Ron would have said on witnessing the exchange between the 'Greasy git' and the house elves. " Let me introduce you all to our guest, Miss Giselle Potter. She is my student. Miss Potter will live with us for quite a long time now."

"The-Girl-Who-Lived!" The elf named Lolly cried in excitement. "Oh, she be the The-Girl-Who-Lived!" Giselle flinched. She despised that epithet and the story behind it! It gave her the Survivor's Guilt!

"Calm yourself, Lolly," Snape's tone was reprimanding. "You may only address her as Miss Potter."

The little elf bowed in acceptance. Snape turned her Giselle, "Let me formally introduce you to the support staff, as well. Beginning from the right: Nectar is the butler,

Blessy—the kitchen incharge, Lime is incharge of the garden, Pewny has the responsibility of keeping the Manor immaculate at all times and Lolly looks after the odd jobs of the house. They have worked for the Prince family for decades."

"Prince?" Giselle whispered, not intending to be overheard.

"The house is called the Prince Manor," his tone gave nothing away. "The Manor belonged to my maternal side of the family, before coming into my possession."

"Your parents live here?" She asked, glancing around.

"That much information shall suffice," he ordered. She did not seriously intend to question him, anyway. But she only wanted to be certain who all to expect in the house during her stay.

"Let me lead you to your rooms, Potter." With that, he walked away. She again followed behind, taking in the interiors of the Manor. It was at least more than a four-storied building. The floor was mostly carpeted and the walls were adorned with portraits—some moving, some not. Chandeliers and thick curtains added onto the regal display.

She had honestly expected a shabby living for Snape, dark and old with cobwebs and dust. The beautiful Manor did not suit his snarky personality. But Manors, she shivered, horrified her. Manors reminded her of the Malfoy Manor, the basement, the confinement, the torture-

"Here," Snape spoke, stopping outside the door, on the ground floor. "These rooms are assigned to you for the duration of your stay."

She nodded, staring at the closed door with the same serpents for the locks and handles. Snape touched the serpents again but nothing happened. "These locks are the only locks," he spoke in his teacher-like tone, "Which do not respond to my magic." He turned to face her, "They will respond to only your magic, Potter."

"My?" She mumbled, glancing up at him before breaking the eye contact.

"Yes," he repeated. "These rooms have the most potent safety wards around them, additional to that on the Manor. Except you, nobody will be able to enter your rooms, without your explicit permission."

"Not even you?" She asked, very low.

"No, not even myself," he assured her. "However, I have extra wards applied on the room that will signify me in case of any emergency, in case you—by habit—invite any troubles for yourself. I will have the permission to enter, despite the wards—but only myself, nobody else."

The prospect of the rooms being unaccessible to anyone but herself was more than reassuring, she decided. Security was what she craved for. But Snape having the supreme power of entering her space in emergency was...a little uncomfortable. But it was, after all, his own house. What troubles could she land into inside a room, anyway! She could at least have her privacy and relief from the constant fear of being harmed by an intruder.

"Lay your wand hand on the head of the serpent, Potter, and let it be versed with your magical signature," he instructed. She raised her right hand on touched the cold metal of the snake. The metal warmed under her skin and the familiar click sounded again. "Open the door."

She pushed the door opened to reveal a well-furnished parlour. The room was painted in peach and beige. Most of the furniture was white—a sofa set and a coffee table. The outer platform of stone-hearth had two small earthen pots with growing leaves. The window seat was the most comfy looking. The window was big and opened into the garden. As she walked on the wooden flooring, the awe was evident on her face.

A curtained partition led her into the bedroom. The colour palette was same. The bed was easily a fit for two. Two side cabinets were settled, touching the sides of the bed. The dresser was huge with a long mirror. A separate set of wardrobes stood beside it and she was compelled to wonder how little space she would occupy with her limited number of clothes. The study table and a chair sat beside an enclosed book shelf. Another smaller window opened just above the table. Another door, she assumed, led to the bathroom.

The rooms were definitely designed for the owners of the house—it could be nothing but the master-bedroom. It was more than sufficient for a single resident. The bedroom itself was as spacious as her dormitory back at Hogwarts. If Snape chose to made her 'pay' for her stay in such a room, she was not sure if her inherited vault would suffice.

"I hope you found the rooms to your liking," Snape spoke from the parlour. She turned to him to find the fire place lit. He still stood in the doorway for which she was grateful. Being in close proximity with anyone discomforted her. "Although if they are not," he said, "I do not care."

_What-_

"Do not expect to be treated like a queen under my roof, Potter," his tone was smooth and Giselle was surprisingly happier finding the usual, dour Potions Master back. "You are expected to keep your rooms clean and presentable at all times, no exceptions. The house elves are old and respectable, they will not be subjected to any menial jobs assigned by you—that you are not willing to accomplish on your own due to sheer laziness. You can, however, call them, if need be—and serious, must I remind."

She nodded, taking the information in. For one, the rooms did feel like being built for a 'Queen'. But she knew better than to expect any human-like leniency from Snape. The original architects of the house could have been considerate, not the current owner.

"A verbal answer would be more preferable," he taunted.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, not sure if he heard her or not.

"My rooms are just opposite to yours," he announced. "You are not permitted or welcome, though. But in case you do need to disturb me for a reason you can justify, you may ask the elves."

"Yes, sir," she repeated. There was a pretty bleak chance that she would ever, willingly, call for the man.

"All meals are served in the dining hall—only," he sounded bored. "Breakfast at eight, lunch at quarter past one and supper at eight in the night. If you do have the appetite for snacks, you may call Blessy. Do you have any queries?"

"What are my chores, sir?" She asked.

He stared at her for a moment before speaking, "I do believe you have been told something about keeping your rooms presentable. Even for you, Potter, it is appealing to have forgotten that clear instruction."

She wanted to roll her eyes at his snide remarks, but refrained herself. "I do remember that, Professor. But what are my other chores?"

"If you consider attending your classes and focusing on your studies—chores, then so be it," he concluded.

Studies? But how was she about to earn her keep?!

"Are there any more questions if relevance, Potter?"

"No." She said clearly. "Sir," she added.

Snape threw a glare at her before taking her shrunken trunk out of his pocket. He resized it to normal but left it lying in the doorway. "Take your trunk." Giselle assumed that the wards did not allow anyone to admit any objects, too, in the rooms without her permission.

But when she was about to life it, the Potions Master spoke again, "You may use your wand." She straightened up, "But I'm not at Hogwarts..."

"Oh, I failed to notice, my apologies," Snape rolled his eyes. "The Manor is not detectable by the Ministry. But that does not, in any way, mean that you are to exploit the privilege."

Giselle nodded, taking her wand out. She cast a Wingsrdium Leviosa and brought her trunk in. When she turned, she heard the door being slammed and Snape was gone.

Giselle sighed. She ran her hand down the nearest wall. _How long can you protect me from myself?_ She put Hedwig's cage on the dresser but avoided looking at the mirror. She turned around and took the details in, wondering if the room was spelt the same way as the bathroom of the Hospital Wing.

She made her way through the other door, entering the bathroom. Expectantly, it was huge with a grand bath among other things. That bathroom alone was the size of Dudley's second bedroom that she occupied at the Dursley's. In different circumstances, she would have been intrigued by the beautiful furnishings of the house, might even have enjoyed herself despite Snape. Especially if Ron and Hermione were there, too... Hermione would have spent hours reading by the window and Ron would have jumped on the bed, asleep in moments. She would have enjoyed a long, undisputed bath. They would have talked for hours by the fire, laughing, maybe playing Exploding Snaps.

If she ever got a chance to buy a house to herself, she would like one like that. Where everyone could stay together—Ron, the other Weasleys, Hermione.

A long walk in the garden would have cheered her spirits up, where she could have spent hours tending to the flowers. Maybe later have a cup of coffee in the verandah. She could have played Quidditch, taking high flights to the sky, chasing the snitch while Remus could have been the keeper and Sirius could-

But Sirius was gone and Remus would never forgive her for that, for killing his last friend... And the house was Snape's and Snape despised her. And her friends would never be welcomed in the house! And Mrs. Weasley was away, too. And she could not face the other Weasleys. And she was about to end her life so there was not a chance that she could buy a house as beautiful as that.

If only her Mum and Dad were alive, she would have lived so much longer than that—they would have found a solution, no matter what. They would have found a resort for their daughter, out of the problem. They would have protected her from ever getting abducted, unlike the Dursleys who had abandoned her. Because only blood-parents could love one selflessly—and she had none...

Perhaps, only death could take her back to them...

*******THTP*****THTP**

"Lolly," Snape called, seated in the dining hall. It was five minutes past lunch time and there was no sign of Potter! _The brat, if expecting to be coddled with delicacies presented to her in the comfort of her rooms, was terribly mistaken!_

The elf popped in front of him. "Yes, Master?"

"Please, call Miss Potter for lunch," he said. "Lead her to the dining area if she cannot find her way." _Which will not be the case, considering all her late night expeditions in the nooks and corners of castle, after curfew._

The elf popped away.

Snape huffed—if the girl dared to disrespect his rules under his roof, she would very well revel in the repercussions! He expected her to be fast asleep by the fire, behaving like the mollycoddled Golden Girl she believed herself to be—_just like her wretched father_!

Lolly popped back. "Miss Potter not be hungry, Master."

That little- "Ask her to present herself right now, Lolly. Tell her it does not concern me what her appetite is. She has to be here in one minute."

Lolly bowed and popped away again.

Potter certainly needed a good lesson on obedience. Her twisted ways would not to be tolerated in his house! He was not the Headmaster to pardon her for her so-called feats! He put a warming charm on the food with no desire to eat cold because of that insolent girl!

It was after another five minutes that the girl came to the dining hall, following Lolly. "So finally Miss Potter decided to grace the hall with her presence," he said bitterly.

She did not reply or retort. Well, good for her to take precautions while under his roof!

"May I know what part of 'All meals will be served in the dining area' did you not understand, Potter?!"

She remained silent.

"Clearly, you were waiting to be invited," he spat. "Of course, the Golden Girl craves for attention."

"I'm not hungry, sir," she finally mumbled.

"Do I seem to care, Potter?" He rolled his eyes. "At the meal time, you are to be present here—I do not want to be blamed for starving you under my roof! You will sit down and eat as much or as little you can."

She remained standing, not complying. But before Snape could begin another tirade, Lolly said, "Miss Potter, you is need eating. The baby need food."

The girl visibly gasped. She, for the first time, turned to eye the Potions Master, "You told everyone!"

Her eyes reflected furor, intense loathing on the very idea. In the briefest of the moment before she averted her eyes, Snape saw the fire burning in Lily's eyes—a fire burning the girl up.

"No, Miss Potter, we elves be knowing," Lolly explained. "We be knowing all. We be also knowing the baby be very strong, very strong magic."

Her face turned pale as her breathing hastened. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to hide away in thin air. Snape expected tears of self-pity to roll down her face. But when she opened her eyes, they were dry and her face blank. "I am not hungry." With that, she strode away.

Severus did not stop her for he was too caught up in contemplating the girl's plight. He was not the best person to tackle such emotional conundrums! _Damn you, Albus!_

*******THTP*****THTP**

_"We had already planned our vacation and we will not cancel it because of you!" Aunt Petunia shrieked in her shrill voice. "My Dudders is very excited for our holiday and I will not allow you to spoil it for him."_

_"Just like you spoil our every other plan with your freakiness!" Uncle Vernon added._

_"Did I ask you to cancel your plans, anyway?" Giselle rolled her eyes. She would be better off without everyday chores and without the Dursleys._

_"Do not give us that attitude, girl!" Uncle Vernon growled. "We will only be treated with respect!"_

_Earn it, then! "Yes, Uncle."_

_"We will leave you at Mrs. Figg-" But his wife cut him off, "But, dear, Mrs. Figg is not home. She has gone to see his granddaughter in London. I've heard she has gotten married to some penniless goon. Mrs. Paul was telling in our last kitty."_

_"What a shame!" Uncle Vernon shook his head. "A penniless goon? Kids these days!"_

_"Thank Goddess, our Diddykins isn't like that," Aunt Petunia cooed._

_"Our Dudley is an exceptional boy, dear," her husband agreed. Giselle suppressed her urge to roll her eyes again. "He will turn into a very fine gentleman who will choose a very respectable wife for himself."_

_"And the best is what he deserves, my Dudders," she grinned. "I always found Mrs. Figg a little eccentric, anyway. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."_

_"You are right, dear," Vernon nodded. "But then where are we supposed to drop the girl off to?" When his wife either had no solution to the problem, he declared, "You have to find a shelter for yourself until we are back!"_

_"But where will I go-"_

_"But, Vernon, what if she flees away?" Petunia whispered to her husband, though loud enough for Giselle to hear without even straining her ears._

_"Wouldn't that be better, dear," Vernon whispered back. "We will be relived of her."_

_"You are right but what if that old man sends another of those screeching letters?" she grimaced._

_"Well, we aren't throwing her out, are we?" Vernon shrugged. "If she goes, that is not on us."_

_"No, dear," the woman shook her head, "I don't want those kind to hurt us or our Dudders..." She eyed Giselle with years worth of loathe. "Won't your kind come and collect you like every year?"_

_"I don't know yet..." She replied. "How many days will you be away?"_

_"That does not concern you," Petunia shrieked. "You will not jinx our vacation!"_

_"I only asked because my school starts on September first-"_

_"Silence, girl!" Vernon was on his feet and towering over her. "Petunia, we will leave her in the house."_

_"In my house?" She gasped. "I don't know what she would make of it, Vernon. I can't trust her with my precious belongings, what if she steals everything and flees away?"_

_Merlin!_

_"We will put doubles locks on all doors, dear," he assured her. "And her freaking things are anyway locked away in the cupboard under the stairs. She is of no use without her plethora of freaky belongings. and that...stick thing."_

_Giselle hid her smirk—her wand was safely kept under the loose floorboards in Dudley's second bedroom._

_Petunia turned to Giselle. "Listen up, girl! We will lock all the doors except the one you're occupying. Don't even dare to break the locks! And I will also lock the refrigerator. I do not trust you. I will give you some ration for yourself. You will use only that much while we're away. I will not allow you treating yourself with luxuries. You will have chores which I want complete when I return! Do you understand that! And don't dare to leave the house without locking the front door or next time, I'll lock you inside for days!"_

_The diatribe went on and on, but Giselle was relieved to hear that she could finally have some peace in the summer, some time alone to grieve for her Godfather..._

_She hardly knew what debacle their departure would result in... She hardly realised when the blood wards around Number Four, Privet Drive, fell, leaving her exposed to the eyes of three cloaked figures, their arms marked with the Dark Mark._

**A/N:** Hi, my fellow readers,

I thought as I'm mentioning so much about suicide and suicidal thoughts, it is my moral responsibility to tell you that I do not support suicide. I don't think there is any problem that cannot be solved, and there is nothing more important than life itself. I believe it's a blessing to be able to see everyday. So, please, this story or I do not, in any way, promote suicide or self harm.

I know what happened with Giselle was wretched, but I still feel if one is alive, one can conquer all!

Please, review and tell me how should I go about it. I have some ideas but hearing from the readers would be better.

Have a good day! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**WARNING #2: This particular chapter has some scenes of violence, basically at the end.**

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 9: That Dreadful August Night**

"Miss Potter? Miss Potter?" A squeaky voice outside the door woke Giselle up. She looked up and realised it was early morning of the next day. She had locked herself up for the rest of the day before and thankfully, nobody had again compelled her to show up at the table or eat. Another round of knocking made her get up from where she was lying on the floor.

She winced at her stiff neck and went to open the door. One of the elves—she could not remember the name to—stood there. "Miss Potter, Good Morning!"

"Morning," she replied.

"Lolly's be here to wake Miss Potter up, Miss Potter," she said cheerily. "Breakfast be in one hour and Master be on time everyday. Miss Potter be bathing and coming on time, too, or she missing meal again..."

It took her a moment to comprehend what Lolly meant. "Sna- Professor asked you to wake me up?"

"No, Miss Potter," she shook her head. "I come to wake Miss or Miss Potter miss breakfast..."

"Oh... Thank you, Lolly, but I don't feel upto eating today..." She mumbled. Her stomach felt empty, yes, but the idea of eating did not appeal to it.

"Lolly be asking Blessy to make what Miss Potter likes," she said with enthuse. "Fruit tea and porridge? Mistress Cassopia liked it, too, when her baby was coming-"

"There is no...baby coming, Lolly," she declared, disgusted. "And I am not hungry, thank you."

"Lolly be sorry, Miss Potter," she bowed. "Lolly not be saying things about the bab- Oops! Lolly not be saying anything, Miss Potter. But, please, don't miss no meals, Miss Potter."

She sighed. "It is not because of you... I- Okay, I will eat something."

"Really, Miss Potter! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She practically began jumping in delight. Vaguely, a small smile spread on Giselle's lips, watching how irrelevant things were enough to make her happy... "Lolly be going and asking Blessy to cook Miss Potter! Oops! Cook for Miss Potter!" With that, she popped away. Giselle shook her head, letting a small smile remain on her lips and closed the door, facing the room again.

She took fresh clothes out of her trunk, which still remained unpacked. She had no intentions of personalising the room, anyway. It would not be too long that she would stay there. It was a firm decision on her part.

_If they can't help me, I'll help myself!_

Soon, she would be away, meeting her parents, in another world. That thought kept her going. Giselle had realised if she tried anything like she had back at Hogwarts, Snape might be notified. So, she had to find a way to end everything without him knowing... Maybe, she could find a potion or a spell that could get her rid of that thing. And if the process claimed her life, she would have no regrets. But living in a condition like that was beyond her.

She might even take some advantages of residing in the Potion Master's house. She would just need to figure out where he kept his stocks of potions, and steal the one she needed—something she had done on a couple occasions. But then, Ron and Hermione were with her, too... Giselle didn't even know which potion to use or which spell to cast for desired results...

She shuddered at the thought of conspiring her own death... That brought the first bout of nausea of the day...

*******THTP*****THTP**

Had it not been for her numerous adventures in the castle, Giselle would have never been able to find her way to the dining hall, again. But she did, quite easily.

Her eyes kept glancing around, searching for the Potions cupboard. From her room to the dining hall, she came across a number of rooms, but all doors were locked. She tried pushing them open but none budged. Giselle felt like a trespasser, trying each door.

Resigning, she quietly went and sat by the dining table. She was early and Snape was probably still in his room, she assumed. Well, it seemed almost impossible to check through the entire Manor for where the potions were stored. But if she could convince one of the elves to help her, maybe she could achieve her feat!

Although the idea of misleading the kind elves was not suited to her personality or liking, there was no other way to get hold of the needed Potion. If Hermione were there, she would have disapproved of it—completely. But Ron would have helped her. Giselle could not help thinking about her friends back at school... An unappealing thought slipped into her mind—what if her feat got her into mortal peril? How would her friends feel? Maybe if Hermione were there, she would have done all possible research on the Potion or incantation she was going to use. But as she was not, maybe she herself should try... But how? Not that the Manor had a library like Hogwarts.

"Uh, Lolly?" Giselle said to the elf arranging the dishes. "I was wonder if you could-"

"Blessy here, Miss Potter," the elf corrected her calmly.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" Giselle quickly apologised, feeling extremely embarrassed and foolish. "I didn't mean to disrespect you..."

"That be fine, Miss Potter," she smiled. "We look all same. I be calling Lolly for Miss Potter." She popped away. In a moment, she popped back along with the called elf.

"Yes, Miss?" She asked with a bow.

"Umm...Lolly, can you maybe...give me a tour- I mean," she was hesitant with her words, "Maybe, take me through the house sometime? As it's so huge and, uh... I have to stay here for quite a long time..."

"Lolly be giving Miss Potter a tour of the Manor, Miss Potter," the house-elf replied with her usual enthuse. "The Manor be so big and Miss Potter be getting lost. Lolly be helping Miss with that."

"Thank you so much, Lolly!" Giselle grinned. "That would be wonderful!"

"Miss not needing to thank Lolly, Miss," she bowed and popped away.

_Step one: done!_

**_THTP_**

Severus entered the dining, carrying a copy of Daily Prophet. He did not expect to find the girl by the table, ready on time, for breakfast.

_Well, hunger has its ways._

He inwardly praised himself for not calling the girl the day before for supper. If she knew she would not be treated like a royal, she would learn to follow rules or deal with the repercussions. An invisible smirk tugged to his lips.

They had a lot to discuss, anyway. The girl had to begin her classes, using the customised spell. That could be accomplished today, at least. Rest can wait.

He nonchalantly walked to the table and took his usual position. Potter quirked an eye at him before averting them back to her cup of...fruit tea? It certainly smelled like it—peaches and apples. Blessy served him his breakfast—scrambled eggs and bacon, while Potter ate some porridge—pretended to eat. Snape could not help but notice how little she actually put into her mouth after playing with her food in the bowl. She had an air of defiance around her. Yet, he decided again passing a snide remark about it.

He opened his newspaper while sipping some tea. _**156th International Magical Summit to be hosted by the United States of America at Yuletide. **_

_Oh, so that was what Albus was referring to..._ Albus had planned visits to the States to run some errands for the Order, she recalled. He surmised he was planning to convince the Wizarding Society to help the United Kingdom in the upcoming war. Well, if his strategy worked, they would have a lot of resources against the Dark Lord. He spent some more time going through the paper, sometimes inwardly cursing the editors for publishing utter rubbish. At least, there was no news about Potter that year, unlike the last year when the media was obsessed with the girl.

When Snape was done with his share of food, Potter's bowl was still full. Her cup was empty, though.

"Are you meditating, Potter?" He finally passed the remark. The girl looked up, then back to her bowl—wordlessly. "Clearly, you do not value the money spent on food or the elves' efforts into cooking for your ungrateful self."

"I am not-" She started saying but abruptly stopped. She picked her spoon up, dived it into the bowl and took a spoonful. She stuffed it into her mouth before glaring at him with utter defiance, as if challenging him.

"Well done, Potter," he said sarcastically. "Do you expect me to _clap_?"

She frowned, repeating the process. Snape huffed inwardly—every inch of her reflected her father. Insolence inherited from him dripped from her face. _Why is it so hard to see your mother in you, Potter!_

_But Lily was headstrong, too_—another voice reminded him.

_She was determined!_

_And so is the girl, just needs guidance._

_The girl is a picture of obstinateness to the level of stupidity!_

Potter suddenly stopped stuffing her mouth with food and covered her mouth tightly with her hands. In a matter of seconds, she was on her feet and away, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

_Well_, Snape rolled his eyes, _clearly so._

A compelling thought that he was trying to keep outside his Occlumency shield finally struck him, against his will—if the girl was stubborn, he was himself not proving to be the sharpest tool in the box. Even he was clueless of any way to try comfort the distraught teenager. Perhaps it was that guilt that was taking the shape of anger, directed towards the girl.

*******THTP*****THTP**

"This library, Potter, is where you will take all your classes." Giselle was hardly listening to Snape. She was mesmerised by the size of the library in the Prince Manor. Not as huge as that of Hogwarts, but it was breathtaking to see so many books lined up on numerous shelves, covering all different genres and subjects. A wooden table in the middle of the room along with several chairs was all the furniture there was, except the racks. If Hermione were to see this, Giselle thought, she would spend rest of her life in that very room.

"Are you paying attention, Potter?" Snape spoke, breaking her reverie. "I see how you have never step a foot before in a library. Understandable in your case."

Giselle ignored him, not having the will to argue. She kept her school bag on one of the chairs. The library had books enough on Potions and Charms, she could see. One of them could help her with her research, if she tried diligently.

"Using the spell, you will attend all your classes, according to the Gryffindor schedule for your year," he continued. "Though the Professor teaching cannot see you, I expect you to behave just as you would in class—which is otherwise pathetic so to consider. But under my roof, you will be on your best behaviour, focus on your lessons and also finish whatever work you are assigned. I will correct your essays in all subjects from here on. When you are scheduled to have a practical Potions class, you will be allowed to work in my personal Potions lab in the Manor, under my supervision, in case you decide to blow up the entire Manor for a change."

He continued. "As it is an additional work that I would be performing, I want only the very best in all your essays. I will accept no assignments without a proper research work on your part." He gestured around the place, "You may take help from these books in your essays—which clearly will be anything but in your habit, Potter, considering the standard of assignments you present in class, without touching a book other than your prescribed school books."

While Snape continued tongue-lashing her with a litany of colourful foulmouthed invectives, Giselle took a close look at the books, spotting four racks filled majorly with hefty books on Potions. Next three only had books on Charms. It would take a lot of time and she knew not how long she had to spare.

"I fail to understand, Potter, how you even managed to score an O in your O.W.L.s and enter into my Potions class this year-"

Maybe only the books about Medicinal Potions would help—which, she hoped, were in manageable number. About Charms, she had no choice but to go through almost all of them.

"...are you prepared, Potter?"

Giselle turned to him and despite ignoring most of his tirade, she nodded.

"Verbal answer, Miss Potter."

She glanced at her school bag, "Prepared, sir."

"Then, begin," he performed the spell and out of thin air, the old classroom of Hogwarts appeared, bordered by a blurry fog. She could clearly see the Professors' desk and the board in the front. "Your classes will commence in the next five minutes. I expect you to be present in the dining area when the classes halt for the lunch break in school."

Giselle nodded with a mumbled, "Yes, sir."

Snape left her to that, marching his way out. She sighed. Tolerating the Bat of the Dungeon whole day along was a menace! But his words failed to take the better of her. She had more important matters at hand. She waited for a few minutes, straining her ears for any signs of the Potions Master outside the library. When she was sure that the threat was over, she began on her little research program.

She had to finally begin looking for the book which could help her. She started with the one kept on the bottom shelf—a comparatively lighter one, _**The Art Of Potion Making and Its Benefits in Healing by Margery Binstock.**_

Giselle brought the book to the table, opened some of her own books and parchments to hide the book in case Snape decided to invade the library randomly, and began reading. At some point, McGonagall's lecture had begun in class. But she ignored his squeaky voice, teaching her batchmates.

She had matters more imperative to deal with than a Sixth year Transfiguration Lesson!

*******THTP*****THTP**

_If the dark was anything to go by, it was after midnight. The Dursleys had left for their holiday a few hours ago, leaving Giselle in the house. Vernon had put locks on all the doors, including the cupboard under the stairs where her magical paraphernalia was hidden. Except her wand that was safely kept under the loose floorboards in Dudley's second bedroom._

_She had called it an early night, taking her rest after days of doing household chores for Aunt Petunia. She was given a long list of more chores to finis before her relatives returned, but Giselle had decided to begin working on them from the next day._

_She had been sleeping when Hedwig's hoot had woken her up. The reason for the owl's distress was some noise coming from downstairs. Somebody had opened the main door and Giselle suspected it to be the Dursleys themselves. She sighed resignedly—why were they back already? She assumed they had probably cancelled the trip and would blame her for their cancellation. As she still had about fifteen days before returning to Hogwarts for her Sixth year, she was highly annoyed at the prospect of bearing with their taunts again. Giselle decided to remain sleeping and face them the next morning, altogether._

_But she felt something strange—she could not hear their voices downstairs and she was sure that at such a time, Dudley would have fussed a lot. Neither could she hear any footsteps approaching upstairs._

_After years of facing various degrees of dangers, she acted on reflex. Giselle slid below her bed, removed the floorboards and retrieved her wand. Though not allowed to perform magic out of school, she would rather save her life than her position in Hogwarts! She glanced at Hedwig and considered sending a letter to the Order already but then decided against it, not knowing what to expect..._

_Suddenly, some glassware shattered on the floor below. Giselle jumped, now first shiver of fear running down her spine. From her cage, Hedwig hooted again, Giselle shushed her. She immediately locked the door, although knowing how easy it would be for them to open it, if there were wizards invading the house._

_She quietly walked to the window and removed the curtain very slightly to take a look outside. The street was empty and dark. Giselle let Hedwig out of her cage. She looked around the room but found nothing to write on. Dudley's room was filled with games and broken, old toys and gadgets but nothing resembling a piece of paper or pen!_

_"Hedwig, I don't have anything to write on," she whispered to her snowy owl. "But fly to Mrs. Figg's- No! She's not home..." She ran a hand down her face. "Fly to the Burrow or the Grimmauld Place, wherever you can reach early and tell them, I need help... Please, girl...just anyhow bring someone here." Hedwig nipped on her finger in assurance. Giselle opened the window for her and the owl flew away._

_Giselle, too, considered escaping from the window, but she was not sure if there was nobody hiding in the streets... Also, without a ladder, she could hardly descend from there without breaking her neck. She looked at her wand but until she was not in any legitimate danger, it would be unwise to use magic._

_She quickly slipped under her bed, manually hiding and missing the safety of her father's cloak that was locked under the stairs. She could feel her heart beating faster..._

_She waited—in absolute silence._

_But no noise came from the ground floor again. She kept waiting...hoping against hope..._

_When after ten minutes nothing unpredictable happened, she slowly crawled out her hideaway. She wondered if sending Hedwig was after all a mistake... Giselle's mind started drawing believable explanation for all that had happened—it could have been a cat who broke the glassware—Giselle might have left the window open; she might have misunderstood the click of the door—it could have just been due to some air..._

_She walked to the door and set her ear to it—nothing. She sighed. Giselle opened the door and went outside. The house was just as she had left—empty and with lights off. Slowly, she climbed down the stairs—the house was indeed empty, she realised. She sighed again, shaking her head at her overthinking and calling for the Order members..._

_Suddenly, a sharp cry of Stupefy made her dodge on reflex. Working on adrenaline, Giselle ran towards the stairs, wand tightly clutched in her hand. The house was dark and barely any light was coming from the windows..._

_"Expelliarus!" Another cry echoed in the house. Giselle again parried the spell._

_"You, idiots!" A familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange froze her in her tracks. Giselle had no idea where the Death Eaters were hidden or how many of them had come. She attempted to quickly climb the stairs to her room when she caught a strong stinging hex. Her knees buckled, she collapsed on her hands and knees._

_"Aww, itsy bitsy Potter!" The horrid woman's voice reverberated in her ears as footsteps approached her from behind. Giselle turned to find Bellatrix Lestrange standing before her with her sick grin, backed by Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange—three wands pointing in her direction._

_"Stupefy!" Giselle shouted, aiming at them. The red light hit Rabastan, bringing him to the floor—probably unconscious. She again sent the curse from her wand at the backdrop of Bellatrix's foulmouthed invectives but she dodged the spell._

_Rodolphus sent another hex at Giselle but she successfully ducked it, quickly trying to make her way to her room._

_She avoided two more hexes, sending some of her own at the Death Eaters. She heard Bellatrix shrieking in pain at her last sent hex. Giselle thanked the D.A. sessions._

_"Expelliarmus!" Rodolphus' spell hit Giselle. Her wand flew off her her grip. She gasped, stumbling. "You can't go nowhere, Potter!" The man yelled. "Our Lord will kill you!"_

_Giselle ignored the creeping fear in her veins and her hastened breathing, and ran inside her room, locking the door shut. Hedwig wasn't back yet, neither was the help. Her wand was lying somewhere outside. She quickly strode to the window and slid it open. She decided to escape!_

_Suddenly, the door behind her flew open. "Is our baby Potter tryna escape?" The woman spoke. All the three Death Eaters were back in action. Bellatrix had two wands in her hand—one her own and other Giselle's. "You dared to defy my Lord with this wand, Potter!" She shrieked like a lunatic, snapping the wand into two before Giselle's eyes._

_Giselle quirked her eyes and spotted the glass jar of Hedwig's treats lying on the table beside the window sill. Without wasting a moment, she grabbed it and threw it at Bellatrix with all her might. The woman shrieked as the jar shattered, colliding with her head, a stream of blood trickled down her temple. She fell on her knees, screaming in utter madness. Rodolphus ran to her aid._

_Giselle quickly opened the window wider for herself to escape but before she could move, Rabastan grabbed her hair roughly, pulling her back. Giselle shouted for help, kicking the man back in his shins. "You, bitch!" He spat, pushing her head to the wall with his grip on Giselle's hair. Giselle cried in pain._

_"Let me go, you bastard!" She shouted, digging her finger nails in his hand. He in turn, caught both her hands in his free one._

_Giselle kept kicking him on his legs with all the force she could conjure. Yet, he kept pulling her back with double the force._

_As she landed a sharp kick on his knees, Rabastan stumbled on his feet. "You, little bitch!" He held her hair firmly and pushed her face forward, smashing her head into the nearest wall. Giselle cried in pain as the world started spinning. He repeated the assault twice. Giselle's eyes lost their focus altogether, and if not for the man's grip on her hair and hands, she would have lost her balance, too._

_But even in the daze, she aimed more sharp kicks on the man. Giselle tried with all the strength she had to free herself._

_Suddenly, she felt a cold tip of a wand on her neck. Looking up, she saw the grinning face of Rodolphus Lestrange, flaunting his decaying set of teeth. Giselle froze._

_He bent near her ear, "You are finished, sweet girl!" His breath in her ear made her sick to her stomach, fear rising in her guts._

_"Whiney, little Potter," Bellatrix, too, stepped before her—half her face drenched in blood. "My Lord will show you your place!"_

_In her mind, Giselle uttered prayers to whoever was listening but her words of plea were lost in the shrieking laughter of the Death Eaters._

_With a wand on her neck and captured by three Death Eaters, the saviour of the Wizarding World—an amateur witch of sixteen, was apparated away to the Malfoy Manor, on that dreadful August night._


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

*******THTP*****THTP**

**Chapter 10: Confrontation **

Severus poured four drops of Acromantula venom in the blue-gray liquid bubbling in the cauldron, and began stirring in the clockwise direction. The pungent smell of the potion signified how longer did he need to stir it. With his wand hand, he vanished the mess from the counter, leaving his personal Potions lab spotless.

It was after fifteen years of having inherited the Prince Manor that he had final decided to live there. Only after his declaration of housing the Potter girl did he actually set up his lab in the Manor. In his childhood, Snape remembered visiting his maternal grandparents a couple of times in the Prince Manor. In front of Spinner's End, the Manor had seemed like a dream for the nine year old boy who visited the place with his mother. But after the demise of his mother, the Ministry had sent him a letter informing him about the Prince Manor being a property of Severus', along with the Prince vaults in Gringotts. He had merely rolled his eyes, keeping the letter away. He earned more than enough to support a better than decent living for himself. Making potions for various health institutions had left a handsome amount in his personal vault, anyway. So he had never really bothered to visit the Prince vault or Manor before. But it was not the first time that Potter had led him to do something he had not planned of—like blowing his covers as a spy.

Taking the girl to Spinner's End was out of question. The shabby, dingy living was nowhere near adequate to house a child, anyway. Snape ran a hand down his face. _Child..._ Well, Potter was a child, yes. He kept stirring, the thought leaving a bitter taste in him.

It had been nearly a week since Potter had come to the Manor. But he would hardly see the girl—well, he was delighted that way. But the meals were all that he saw her during. Each day, she greeted him with her same demeanour—eyes fixed to the floor, face blank, not opening her mouth to either utter a word or to stuff food in.

_Food! Merlin! How the girl works on the meagre diet!_ Since the day before, he had asked Blessy to slip a dose of Nutrient Potion in her glass of juice. Well, of course, he would not be blamed for starving the girl!

Potter remained in the library for most of her day, attending her classes or busy reading. He had assigned Nectar to keep a check on the girl while in the library. But he always got the same report from his elf—'Miss Potter be studying, Master".

Well, Potter was never that determined to study, was she? Her grades were always average, with the exception of her Ordinary Wizarding Levels where she had scored pretty well above average, especially in Potions. But otherwise, even her class assignments showed a lack of interest. At Hogwarts, he would often find Potter busy on her broom, occupying the Pitch, playing that futile game of Quidditch, away from anyplace where she could _touch_ a book. She was acting out of her character, Snape concluded.

But that was hardly appalling. Owing to the current circumstances, there was not much that one could do. Perhaps, he should make her see a mind-healer soon.

Since arriving at the Manor, he had received two letters regarding the girl from the Headmaster asking him to begin her training. The first time, Snape had fervently replied with something akin to 'Quit pestering me, Headmaster. I am cognizant of my duties.' but the second time, he had even not bothered replying. _Training!_ He huffed. The girl was hardly more than bones, how was he supposed to train her without pushing her over the edge.

The potion had acquired a bright blue hue and the pungency was no longer present in the air. Severus began bottling the potion in several vials, having prepared the liquid as a consignment to be sent to France. He kept the vials away, safely in a locked cupboard. The consignment had to be sent two days later, but Snape had little to no regard for lethargy. Better early than late!

He prepared another vial of the potion and kept in separately—it was for Potter's use. Snape summoned a tray from the nearby drawer and kept several different glass vials on it, including the recently prepared one. Healer Bronze had sent him the list of prescribed potions that Potter was required to take as a part of antenatal care.

"Lolly," he called for his elf. When she appeared, he handed the tray to her, "Go and give this to Potter and ask her take each twice a day, before the first and last meals of the day." The elf nodded and popped away.

Snape vanished the cauldron and exited the lab, still contemplating the idea of a mind-healer for Potter. A suicidal teenager was not one he had the experience to deal with. Although, there had been instances akin to that in his house, but the guardian of the child in question had looked into the matter most of the times, or when guardians were the reason of stress, Pomphrey had. But in Potter's case, there were no guardians to begin with and Snape would not allow the highly incompetent medi-witch to poke her nose in the matter.

*******THTP*****THTP**

_**The main ingredients to brew any Abortifacient Potion include: Coleus forskohlii, Hydrastis canadensis and Tanacetum vulgare had been Some other herbs that are believed to induce an abortion or miscarriage are: Eucalyptus spp., Mentha pulegium and Gossypium spp. **_

_**Steps to brew:**_

_**No. 1: Set a cauldron on...**_

_**...No. 8: Add the above mentioned herbs in the syrup and start stirring anti-clockwise. **_

_**No. 9: After stirring for twenty minutes, leave the potion under the sunlight for about four days at a stretch. This process shall be repeated for nine days-**_

_What! _

Giselle closed another book and kept it aside, burying her face in her hands and sighing deeply. A week and after overviewing a number of books on Potions, she had found nothing of use. She rubbed her tired eyes, ignoring Professor Slughorn's voice in the background.

Everyday, Snape did the spell for her, leaving her in the library, expecting her to attend the classes. Giselle would utilise her time looking for the answers she needed. But she hardly had had any luck... Any potions that she had come across at least needed a week or more time to be brewed. It was impossible for her to do that escaping the Potions Master's eye.

Giselle began massaging her temples—all the anxiety was giving her a headache, as the days were progressing, she was getting more and more agitated.

The only Charms that she had come across to aid her condition were in Latin! The incantations were so long and intricate to pronounce properly that there was no hope that she could perform them with effect.

"Miss!" Lolly's voice startled her. Giselle quickly covered the Potions directory with his arms. "Yes, Lolly?" She noticed the elf was carrying a tray full of potion vials. Giselle looked at her questioningly.

"Miss, Master be giving Miss Potions," she told her. "Miss be taking two times in day—before morning and nightly eatings."

Giselle eyed the potion, wishing for the vials to break at her mere glance. Anything that reminded her of het condition exasperated her out of her wits. She would never drink out of those vials! If anything, she needed an

_Abortifacient Potion, _not one of those. Yet, she nodded, letting Lolly keep the tray on the table before disappearing.

An intense urge to smash the vials to the ground overpowered her. Giselle did just that! A satisfying sound of glass breaking gave her little peace. Not bothering about the consequences of her actions, she picked another book from the shelves, replacing it with the old one and started on it. She did not vanish the mess for a long time—the sight of the broken vials and spilled potions sated her.

As Slughorn's class got over, Giselle spotted Ron and Hermione exiting the classroom. A sense of homesickness overtook her, making her feel out of place in the Manor. "I wanna go home..." she involuntarily mumbled.

_Home?_ Her other voice said. _You don't have a home._

"Yes, I don't have a home because I killed my family," she muttered to herself.

She opened the new book, looking through the index. She again opened to the page regarding _Abortifacients. _Most of the potions were those that she had already read in the other books. They all required time and patience—both she was deficient at. Giselle noted that all _Abortifacients_ had some key ingredients which were same that did not change. Only the procedure had alterations according to the time span of the pregnancy or other complications.

The list of ingredients included the same herbs, almost.

_**Eucalyptus spp., Tanacetum vulgare, Mentha pulegium, Gossypium spp. Hydrastis canadensis and Coleus forskohlii... **_

She ran her finger through the list, weaving a plan in her mind. A small smirk spread on her face—_yes!_

*******THTP*****THTP**

"Miss Potter?" Blessy said politely, "You not be liking food Blessy make?"

Giselle looked up from her plate, hardly having touched the food. From across the table, Snape quirked an eyebrow at the elf but did not add to her innocent question. "Oh, no...that's not..." Giselle hesitated to find the right way to answer her so as not to offend her. "I don't have much of an appetite lately..."

The elf looked at her with concern and Giselle tried not to flinch at the exposure of pity in her eyes. Pity made her flustered. "Should Blessy be making something Miss wants?" She asked, almost insisting and Giselle was strongly reminded of Hermione.

"No, thanks, really..." She said softly.

But as Blessy's eyes dulled in disappointment, Giselle felt compelled to acknowledge her request. "Okay... I'd like a cup of fruit tea, please." The words had an instant effect on the elf as her face lit up again. "Sure, Miss!" She popped away immediately and quickly returned with one steaming cup of tea for her.

"Thank you," Giselle said, taking the cup from her. It seemed to have satisfied Blessy for she bowed low to her before disappearing again.

All the elves at the Manor were very compassionate and sincere, often reminding her of Dobby. Giselle glanced at Snape who was quietly eating. He was a lucky man to have the company of such caring elves.

She inhaled the warm aroma of her tea, the delicious smell of peaches calmed her stomach. Giselle took a sip from her cup and warmth spread in her stomach. Her eyes travelled to the wall clock—it was striking nine. She again glanced at Snape, noting that he was almost done with his meal.

After having observed his schedule, Snape would retire to his room right after dinner. His lights would be off by eleven. After that, she could easily go to his Potions lab to execute her plan. She had two hours to wait before she could be free! In those two hours, she could prepare-

"Potter," Snape interrupted her trail of thoughts. She looked up at him, not meeting his eyes though. "Sir?" For a moment, she was almost certain that he was going to reprimand her and belittle her over breaking his expensive potion vials.

"The Headmaster had previously as well as recently expressed his wish for me to train you-"

"I don't think I can learn Occlumency anymore," she stated clearly. "Professor," she added.

He glared at her with deep annoyance, "I do not appreciate being interrupted, Potter."

_I do not like conversations, Professor._

"So as I was saying," he continued, "The Headmaster would like you to attain some training while you are not attending school in person. It will not be limited to Occlumency. In fact, I might not include that particular art, at all, after having witnessed your execrable failure to master the skill."

Giselle bit the inside of her cheek lightly, refraining herself from answering back. She was not unbeknownst to the fact that it was failure that had led to Sirius' death! But Snape blaming her, as well, would be too much to digest. It was not his place.

"Your training will include: the use of nonverbal spells, hand magic and duelling among other forms of offensive and defensive magic."

Well, she thought, it didn't matter because it would not be long until she'd be a guest at his house, anyway. Once her plan was successfully executed, she would be free and back among her friends and far away from the dour Potions Master. Or if not at Hogwarts, she would be someplace way better than the world itself, probably with her parents and Godfather, not having to do a thing with the War!

"Your training will begin from tomorrow, itself," Snape announced. "After your classes, of course. Do you have any questions?"

Giselle, for no pressing reason except for pretending to be interested, asked, "Will you be training me, Sir?"

Snape raised an eyebrow before speaking, "It seems I am bestowed with more to do with you that I would ever like. But to the despondence on both our parts, yes."

She ignored the man and glanced at the clock again. She looked back at him and nodded, finding herself at a loss. She hardly cared. "Okay."

Snape's lips pursed up in a thin line, showing his displeasure at the prospect of having to do anything more with her. If only he knew I'd long gone before tomorrow...

With a pop, another elf who went by the name—Pewny—appeared before them. He was carrying a sack in his boney hands and had an odd look pasted on his face. "Master," he said, "Master's potions be broken in library. All bottle on floor..." He offered to show the sack to Snape. As the Professor's face screwed up in fury, Giselle's lost its colour. She inwardly kicked herself for leaving the mess uncleaned.

"Alright, Pewny," he said dismissively. "You may go." The elf immediately popped away.

Giselle released a shuddering breath before standing up, "Excuse me." But before she could turn to leave, Snape, too, was on his feet—the same darkened look on his face. She swallowed, wondering if her vault had enough money to pay back for the bottles she had broken out of pure anger.

"Explain, Potter." Was all he said, barely moving a muscle on his face.

Suddenly, Giselle felt like an eleven years old, first year, facing the man for the first time. "I...It slipped."

"Oh, did it?" Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Yes."

He remained quiet for a long moment and Giselle was almost certain that he would just stride away in annoyance, muttering about unconvincing excuses. But when did he ever act as per her expectations! "Do you know the value of the Potions that slipped off your fragile hands!"

"I'll pay you," she mumbled.

"_Pay me?_" His scowl deepened. "It took me precisely thirty six hours to brew those particular potions. Do pay me. It would be quite interesting to see how you do so."

Giselle did not reply. She knew uttering anything would only lead to more taunts and snide remarks.

"At the very least, Potter, be a Gryffindor enough to admit the truth!" He spat indignantly.

Her head shot up, "I didn't ask you to waste your time making potions for me!"

Snape leaned forward on the table, eyeing her with furor, "I do not know why your ungrateful disposition does not cease to appall me." His words came out silky, hitting her with fervour.

"And I don't understand why your habit of sticking your nose in my matters don't stop surprising me, as well, Professors!" She spat. Snape's lips curled up in rage.

_Oh, fuck! What did I say!_

"You should be grateful to my habit of _sticking my nose_ in the matters that concern you for had it not been for me, you would have ended up in either that horrid house of your mutt of a Godfather or in the care of that miserable excuse of your Muggle relatives!" He finished with banging the table hard.

"Don't pretend as if you willingly took me in!" Giselle yelled. "Dumbledore must have forced you to!"

Snape let out a sound akin to a disgruntled laughter. "Force me?" He shook his head, making Giselle already feel foolish for her words. "Nobody can force me to do anything against my will, let alone bearing with _you_, Potter. So evict that notion out of your head."

"Liar!" She muttered under her breath.

"Oh, so do you check the veracity of my statement under _Veritaserum_?!"

"I don't believe a word that you say," she stated, turning away.

"Believe what you like, Potter," he said wrathfully, "But the truth remains the same—it was I who had allowed you to degrade and disgrace my house with your presence!"

She immediately turned back, finally eyeing him and shrieked, "WHY DID YOU!"

"Mind your tone, Potter!" Snape said sharply. "I will not be insulted by an insufferably insolent girl like you _under my roof_!"

"As if I like to live in this HELLHOLE!" She yelled back, panting and shaking in intense anger. "I never wanted to come here in the first place!"

"I remember giving you a clear opportunity to decline the offer," Snape retorted and Giselle felt like abasing herself standing there and arguing when she had no valid point to prove.

She stood there at a serious loss of words. True, it was the fear of having being sent back to the Dursleys or the Grimmauld Place that had kept her from rejecting to living with Snape. "Yes," she whispered, "My mistake."

"Spare me the damn theatrics! I am not interested in putting up with your play of melancholia self pity, Potter!"

Giselle averted her eyes to her feet, anger converting into fresh embarrassment. She clenched her hand in a fist, digging her nails in her palms. _You won't have to, for long..._ Without another word, she turned away and walked out of the suffocating space. Snape did not make a sound.

Aa she made her way back, their conversation kept playing in her head. Reaching her room- the room assigned to her, she was feeling like an intruder, a trespasser in the house. Even if Snape had willingly let her stay under his roof, he would be cursing himself for making the decision. After all, she was not his problem. She was nobody's problem—she was nobody's.

She entered the room, having distant thoughts of running away from the Manor, far, far away—to a Muggle neighbourhood where nobody would know her, where she could live without a past...

But the fear of getting abducted again had so deeply been instilled in her soul that the mere idea of leaving alone terrified her.

Giselle slipped down the wall and sat on the floor, drawing her knees close to her chest. She closed her dry eyes. _Take me home, Mom, Dad, Sirius, take me home, please..._ Wherever home was...

*******THTP*****THTP**

_Giselle's head was spinning and throbbing as an effect of the earlier instances of violence and apparation. On gaining her senses, when she opened her eyes, she felt a cloth covering them and another one was stuffed in her mouth, gagging her. She tried to move, but failed. It took her a moment to register that she was gagged and blindfolded. She couldn't feel the ground underneath, only the cold stone wall which she was probably pinned to._

_When her mind was capable of focusing again, it was an unfamiliar, dull sounding voice that greeted her. "Well done, Lestrange. The Dark Lord will be very pleased."_

_"I will deliver the news to My Lord, Goyle!" Bellatrix started shrieking in glee._

_"The Dark Lord knows," the man replied. "He is on his way."_

_"I caught her! I brought her!" Bellatrix's piercing voice chanting the mantra felt distant. The only emotion cognisant to her was shock. Giselle's heart skipped a beat—Dark Lord? The slow realisation paced up, fighting its way through the wet fog. She was kidnapped!_

_No!_

_"So she is the one," the man spoke, coming closer to her. "The-Girl-Who-Dared-To-Live."_

_"Not for long now," one of the Lestrange brothers snickered._

_She felt a cold finger on her cheek. Giselle tried to move away from it, not liking the touch at all. Suddenly, the owner of the hand dug her sharp nails in her cheek. Giselle tried to scream but couldn't, due to the gag._

_"Aww, it hurts, isn't it ?" Bellatrix spoke. "It should hurt!"_

_A trail of memories rushed in front of her eyes—the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, the graveyard, the tombstone, the resurrection of Voldemort! She tried to squirm herself free from the magical bounds, failing miserably._

_"You can't escape, sweet girl," she could imagine Rodolphus Lestrange grinning at her._

_"Our little prey smells good," another unfamiliar voice said, making Giselle sick to her stomach. As the footsteps approached to her, she started trying harder to free herself. She could feel a burning pair of eyes fixed on her._

_"If the Dark Lord hands her over to me-" But the man was cut off by Bellatrix, "She's My Lord's, Greyback! He will do as he desires!"_

_Greyback! Giselle recalled hearing about him from Remus. Fenrir Greyback!_

_"And I must comply to His wishes, yes," Greyback said with a hint of amusement in his tone._

_"You must or you'll be joining the girl soon enough," Rabastan Lestrange laughed._

_A door creaked open and everybody felt silent instantly. Giselle's scar gave a sharp throb of burning pain. A chill ran down Giselle's spine, not out of fear from the beast in the room but fear of the unknown. Her hands twitched for her missing wand. If only she had it..._

_"My Lord," they all acknowledged him, most cheerful of whom was the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange._

_"I caught her, My Lord!" She cried in glee. "I dragged the Potter girl to your feet!"_

_"Not she alone, My Lord," Rodolphus quickly added. "Me and Rabastan, too."_

_"Remove the blinds," the cold voice of Voldemort seeped through the room like daggers._

_"Yes, My Lord," Rodolphus complied._

_As the rags were removed from her mouth and eyes, she saw the tall and skeletally thin form of Voldemort. As she looked at his whiter than a skull face with wide, livid scarlet eyes, her scar seared with strong pain. Giselle refrained herself from flinching._

_"Well done, my Death Eaters," he let on a maniacal grin, addressing his coterie of Death Eaters who still knelt by his feet._

_As he took his steps closing the distance to Giselle, his red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cat's, gleamed brightly through the darkness. He came closer to her, looking at her top to bottom, smirking darkly._

_"I am amazed to meet you again, so soon, Giselle," his cold voice hinted of a lunatic glee. "You look," he let on a smirk, "-just the same."_

_"You bloody bastard!" She shrieked. "You couldn't get your hands on me so you sent your little followers to catch me. How very brave!"_

_"How dare you!" Bellatrix screamed, striding to her in pure rage._

_"Bella," Voldemort said in a calm voice, raising his pale hand, resembling a spider. He turned to face Giselle again, "They could not break you, I see."_

_"They can never!" She declared, ignoring the constant throbbing in her scar._

_"Yes, they cannot," he said in a frighteningly low voice. "Because only I can revel breaking you, Giselle." He brought his long, white fingers to her face and pressed her lightening-bolt scar. Intense pain shot through her body, involuntarily bringing tears to her eyes._

_In reply, Giselle spat at him._

_With the corner of her eyes, she saw Bellatrix approaching to her but was again forced to stop as Voldemort raised his hand up. He turned away from Giselle, facing his Death Eaters again. "Summon the other Death Eaters," he declared. "Tell them, we have a night to revel!" With a dramatic turn, he raised his hand at her and made a peculiar gesture with it._

_Giselle was released from the wall and fell on the cold ground. She hid both her pain and shock well, not giving them the satisfaction of watching her on her vulnerable end. She instantly stood up, taking a defiant stance, facing him. If only I had my wand!_

_"You have had immense luck escaping your ultimate fate many a times, Giselle Potter," Voldemort said a sickening smirk. "But not today. Something tells this night won't end for you. Either it will take you with along or you will carry the memories of this night until you are alive!"_


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 11: A Hint Of Empathy **

_"His nose's broken, I bet! That lil' ferret!" Ron laughed, stuffing food into his mouth, then took a long swig of his butterbear. Hermione scrunched her nose at that, but Giselle joined in, laughing._

_Three Broomsticks was crowded like every on other Hogsmeade weekend. The students were chatting and eating, all enjoying their outing. It was a relief for Giselle to have finished the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament without managing to get herself killed. She was taking the weekend as a little treat for self-appreciation._

_"You know Professor Snape will get you expelled the moment he finds out, Giselle," Hermione was trying to intimidate her, but Giselle couldn't care less. She felt so 'victorious' after punching Malfoy, hidden under her cloak. "Oh, c'mon! He wouldn't have seen me, anyway. And did you forget what you did to him last year? I learnt that from you!"_

_"Yeah, how could she have lost the chance," Ron chuckled._

_"Did you see his face?" Giselle took a sip of her drink, licking her lips off of the cream._

_"He had caught you under the cloak last year, too, when you sneaked out of the castle," Hermione pointed out. "And if I remember correctly, you landed up into a lot of trouble with Professor Snape."_

_"Because last year, I was not allowed to come here," Giselle said, pointing around Three Broomsticks. "Now, I have got Sirius to sign my consent form for me."_

_"But you still attacked a student," Hermione shook her head._

_"And he keeps opening his dirty mouth to insult us," Ron countered. "And if his father hears about it-"_

_"-he'll be proud to know his son earned two punches from two different girls in two years," Giselle broke into a fit of laughter, followed by Ron. "Good average!" A small smile graced Hermione's lips up as she, too, joined her friends—the puerile fears of getting expelled forgotten._

"Miss Potter," Lolly's voice startled Giselle, bringing her back from her fourth year's visit to Hogsmeade to the library of Prince Manor.

"Yes?" Giselle turned to face the elf.

"Be Miss okay?" The house-elf asked politely, eyeing her with her big, yellow eyes.

"Yeah..." She replied, running a hand down her face. _Anything but okay._

"Miss, Master have called Miss Potter," she told her.

"My...my classes are going on right now," Giselle said, turning back to face the conjured screen—only to find herself facing an empty classroom.

"But it's lunch, Miss," Lolly said in a whisper, behind her.

Giselle kept staring at the classroom with a blank mind. She looked down to find her books, untouched. Not even another Potions book was opened. _When did I come here at all?_ "Right."

"Do Miss passed out?" The elf asked, concern lacing her tone.

No, she did not. But her memories since the previous night were lost in a blur. "I... Maybe, I...slept..."

"Oh, that be fine, Miss," Lolly said smilingly. "Master be calling Miss."

"Yeah, I'm coming," she said, rubbing her temples, feeling disoriented at best.

"No, Lolly to show where Master is," the elf insisted. "Miss still new to house, not knows where all rooms be."

Giselle felt too weary to argue. She complied and followed after the other. After her little tragic _tête-à-tête _with the Potions Master, last night, she had carefully kept out of his sight. She had had her breakfast in the library. There was little doubt in her mind that the meeting was going to end up in another such series of hurling invectives at each other.

She still flinched at how she was left at a dearth of words last night, when she had no counter to defend her choice of staying at Snape's place. That aspect somehow restrained her from throwing any insults at him. A more sane part of her knew she ought to show gratefulness to the man... But the other part did not want to recognise him as anything akin to a 'compassionate soul'.

She followed Lolly to the ground floor quietly. The elf led her to the back of the floor, opposite side to her room. She had never ventured into that part of the Manor. The little tour that the elf had given her only included the more important parts of the house. Rounding a corner, they stopped outside a closed door.

"Here in, Miss," Lolly gestured towards the door.

"Whose room is this?" Giselle asked, looking around.

"Sickroom, Miss," she replied.

"_Sickroom?_" Giselle narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Meaning?"

"Master be waiting for Miss in, Miss," the house-elf said. She waddled to the door and opened it.

The said room was mostly painted in white and green, and the sterile stench filled Giselle's nostrils, resembling that of the Hospital Wing. A curtained partitioned the room into two. On one side with a single bed, a spacious side cabinet and two paperclip stools; on the other, several cupboards, a desk and chairs and a comfy looking, leather couch with a coffee table. The windows had light coloured curtains and two beautiful paintings depicting something akin to a jungle adorned the walls. The room had an air of calmness inside.

While taking in the interiors of the room, Giselle's eyes fell upon the usual expressionless face of Professor Snape and the smiling one of Healer Bronze. She stood holding a tray of potion phials, in conversation with the Professor.

"Hello, Miss Potter," the lady greeted her with a small smile, approaching her.

"H-hello..." Giselle said with visible hesitation, confused. She looked back to find Lolly already disappeared. She faced them again, staring from the Healer to Snape, questioningly. For a brief second, she wondered if they had finally found a resolve for her situation and a small flicker of hope ignited in her heart.

"How're you, dear?" She asked, running an eye at her. Giselle glanced at Snape who looked bored and stood silent.

"I'm, uh, fine," she replied, shifting from one foot to another.

"Good," she nodded, keeping the tray on the table. Healer Bronze then gestured her towards the coach, "Come, dear, sit."

Giselle was perturbed, yet hopeful that the Healer was there in order to provide her with some aid. She followed her and sat beside her. Snape, meanwhile, remained standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, leaning against the wall.

"Well, tell me," Bronze said, "How're you holding up?"

"Uh, fine..." She said without much thought, becoming quite restless now.

"So, all settled here, then?" She asked politely. "I'm sure Professor Snape is proving a good home environment for you, yes?"

With the corner of her eyes, Giselle saw Snape rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Er... How're you visiting?" She kept her voice low, yet it sounded hopeful.

"Well," she smiled and covered Giselle's hands with that of hers. Giselle tried not to flinch. "It's been a while since last seeing you. So Professor Snape arranged for the meeting." Giselle frowned, glancing at Snape. "We have decided that as you cannot come to St. Mungo's, we'll provide you all the medical care here, at home."

_Home? Huh! _"Medical care?"

"Yes, I will be your Healer for the course of these months, dear," Bronze explained. "You don't have to travel anywhere, all will be arranged right here for you, I assure you."

Giselle opened her mouth to say something but the Healer continued, "And before you ask, yes—I've sworn under the Oath of Secrecy. Nobody will know anything, I promise."

The candle died to smoke. Giselle tried to hide the disappointment on her face. She slowly slipped back her hands from her hold. "I...I don't think I need any medical care, but thank you..."

Bronze glanced at Snape, then back to her, "Of course, you do, dear. We'll go through many tests, scans and even exercises together in these months." Giselle's eyes widened some in disbelief of the optimism and excitement in her voice but some in absolute disgust! "There's nothing to worry, though. That will be all in the coming months. Today, I'm here only for a simple check up-"

Giselle got to her feet, "I don't need any check up, I'm feeling fine." She turned to leave but was stopped by Bronze. "I'm sure, you are. But this is only a routine check up, dear."

"I don't need it," Giselle stated.

"The Healer has been kind enough to have taken some time out of her schedule, Potter," Snape said sternly. "You will not be insolent-"

"I said, I. Don't. Need It." Giselle said in a steely whisper.

"It is only a simple scan, that's all," Bronze tried to explain. "It's important, dear."

"No." Giselle said firmly.

"Potter, mind your manners!" Snape came and stood beside Bronze, his lips pursed in a line.

"It's just a part of your prenatal care, dear." Giselle flinched at Bronze's words. "I said, NO!"

"Potter, your unreasonable defiance will not be entertained by me," Snape warned.

The Healer tried to lighten the mood, interrupting Snape, "It's just a scan to see how the baby is-"

"SHUT UP!" Giselle shouted. "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"Potter," as Snape took a step towards her, she raised her hand, "Don't!" To her amazement, Snape stopped. But Bronze, now looking at her with concern, said, "It's for your own good..."

"I know what is good for me," she countered, flummoxed and bitter. She clenched her fists in tight balls, eyeing the pair in disgust, wanting to hex them. Her breaths came heavily in fury.

"Alright, alright," Bronze rose her arms, indicating her surrender. "No scans, if you don't want. But, only answer some of my questions, please?"

"I don't want to answer ANYTHING!" She stomp her foot in frustration.

"It is a harmless enquiry, Potter," Snape reasoned.

"Yes," Healer nodded. "Come, let's sit and talk. It won't take a minute."

"Ask whatever you have to," Giselle said in exasperation, not wanting to be there anymore. She refused to sit in that uncomfortable atmosphere, discussing the wretched things that made her nothing but nauseous.

"Okay," she said almost calmly, picking up a notepad. "Just a few questions... Are you feeling any discomfort? Aches?"

"No." Was her terse reply.

"Good," she said, although not looking satisfied at all. "How's your nausea?"

"Fine." Giselle's hands twitched to hold her wand. Every moment in the room was luring her mind towards the more reckless behaviours.

"Okay," she nodded, scribbling something on the notepad. "Any dizziness?"

"No, nothing!" Giselle stated firmly. "I said, I'm fine!"

Bronze looked at Snape pleadingly, probably preventing him from speaking. She kept the notepad back and picked a potion vial, instead. "Can you take this for me, dear?" She said, handing the glass vial to her.

Giselle eyed her with a piercing look, panting in anger, and snatched the bottle from her. She looked at it and suddenly, threw it forcefully to the wall. The glass vial broke with a shattering crush, the potion tricking down the white wall.

"I DO NOT NEED A FUCKING CALMING DRAUGHT!" She screamed.

"That is ENOUGH!" Snape growled. "Enough of your nonsense, Potter!"

Giselle immediately withdrew her wand from her sleeve, pointing at it at the flustered Professor and the concerned Healer.

Bronze gasped, "Calm down, dear-"

"Put the wand down, Potter!" Snape warned, stepping closer.

"Don't!" She spat, rising her wand higher. She turned to Bronze, "Get out!"

"Dear-"

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" Giselle screamed. Her voice reverberated in the room fiercely.

"Your actions will have consequences, Potter," Snape snarled. "Healer Bronze is a very respectable and eminent Healer-"

"Who could not do anything for me," Giselle whispered in a dangerously low, emotionless tone.

"We...we tried, Giselle," the lady said in defence. "We really did... But it would have harmed you, would have cost you your life..."

"I don't CARE!" She snapped, kicking the leg of the couch in her fit.

"You could have died, you simpleminded girl!"

"Well," she broke into a humourless laughter, causing the other two to stare at her with unsettledness. "And I thought, I'm already dead."

With that, she put her wand away, turned on her heels and left the room, leaving a very perturbed Snape behind.

*******THTP*****THTP**

_Snape cursed the loony, old Headmaster, finishing his final draft of the lesson plan for the next academic year. He despised any kind of interference in his job, but that Albus-Too-Many-Names-Dumbledore had an old habit to pry and pester. The sixth year schedule was the most intricate to make. The ones who had taken the risk of continuing with him for another two years—and whose fate had complied to their wishes—ought to get the taste of the true nature of the subtle science of Potion Making._

_Only twenty three students had been lucky enough—or unlucky, perhaps—to have scored a proper O in his subject. Nine from Ravenclaw, six from Hufflepuff, five from Slytherin and only three from Gryffindor—Finnigan, Granger and Potter. Snape snorted in derision—even the Potter girl had, somehow managed to attain an O—life never ceased to appall him._

_As much as he loathed the idea of bearing with the girl for two more years, Snape was almost a bit...floored. Well, she could not have cheated, that was out of question. He was cognizant of the charms that the invigilators used to prevent any attempts at cheating. Maybe, she had finally acknowledged the idea of opening a book, then. Among all the chaos at the Department of Mysteries and Potter's miserable attempt at Occlumency, he wondered how she had actually gotten the time. Not that he cared a bit!_

_The thought of their Occlumency lessons had left him bitter, though. He still fumed recalling the girl's audacity to enter the Pensieve! What an utter reflection of his equally audacious father! Snape erected his Occlumency shields to keep the idea of Potter out of the conscious layers of his mind._

_He finished writing the lesson plan and folded the parchment neatly. Snape pushed the folded parchment into an envelope and left the dingy kitchen. He glanced at the clock, noting that it was quarter past three in the morning—a good time to annoy the Headmaster with the letter. His owl was perched on the window sill. Snape tied the envelope to its leg, "Take it to Headmaster Dumbledore." The owl hooted and took its flight through the night sky, soon leaving the vicinity of Spinner's End._

_Snape walked back to his kitchen. Wandlessly, he vanished his paraphernalia of parchments from the table. Almost half the month was left for the school to begin. At the back of his mind, he was counting the number of potions he had to brew for the Dark Lord. There was not much to make him realised that the school was not in sessions for he kept just as busy. More so, to be fair._

_Snape opened the wooden cabinet and took the half empty bottle of Firewhiskey out. Grabbing a glass from the counter, he poured a liberal amount in. Small mercies. Taking a sip, Snape felt rather warm as the liquid burnt his throat. He went to his Potions lab, carrying the glass. There was much work to be done, and if he failed to present the consignment on the decided day, he would have nobody but himself to blame. After spending about ten to eleven months at the rather clamorous school, among squabbling children, the bare walls and silent corners of the shabby house at Spinner's End exasperated him, despite his inclination towards a peaceful surrounding. But in times like those does one realise the difference between 'peace' ans 'silence'. In quiet, he could perform better but it was only in the enclosed silence that some of his deep buried memories peaked out, surfacing his shields._

_Snape settled a cauldron on the counter, summoning the required ingredients when suddenly bright converging light lit up the otherwise dull room, taking the form of a Phoenix. In Dumbledore's voice, the Patronus delivered the message to the Potions Master—"The wards have fallen; she's missing!"_

_The unusual urgency in the Headmaster's voice was noted by Snape as he immediately put the fire out from under the cauldron. With a few hurried strides, he grabbed his outer robes from the coat-stand near the door and exited._

_It took him precisely a couple of minutes to reach the closest apparation point. The neighbourhood was submerged in the dark and remained quiet as Snape apparated himself to the place indicated by Dumbledore in his poorly-coded message._

_In the early hours of the morning, Surrey was eerily silent. Snape made his way to Number Four Privet Drive, relieved to find the neighbourhood undisturbed by whatever events had taken place—one less thing to worry about... As expected, he saw the familiar faces of Order members standing by the front door of the said house. Snape checked around in order to preserve his identity as a spy in case a Death Eater was watching. When he was quite sure some wards had been reinstated so as to hide the wizards from the Muggles as well as the potential threat of Death Eaters, he went inside, crossing the kempt front garden of the house. Snape snorted with disdain—so very Petunia!_

_"Severus," Albus came striding out of the house, ignoring a flushed-looking Mundungus Fletcher. Snape nodded at him. "The Dursleys are not home, the wards fell. We cannot find Giselle-"_

_"I received the Patronus, Albus!" Snape rolled his eyes. "Tell me what I do not know."_

_"The Blood Magic failed," he informed, his tone evident of the seriousness of the issue. "Giselle had sent her owl to the school. I assume now that she was calling for help, but there was no letter that she had sent. I personally came here to check and found that the wards were fallen."_

_Snape rolled his eyes when the old man emphasised on 'personally'. "Who was on the watch?" He asked, almost knowing the answer._

_"Dung was," Arthur Weasley replied, instead, looking pale and tired._

_"Why am I not appalled," Snape muttered bitterly, glaring at the Headmaster. "How very strategic of you to appoint the most inept of the members on guard, blatantly overlooking the kind of troubles the girl has the capacity of landing herself into—even without the looming threat of the Dark Lord."_

_"This is no time ter pass comments, boy," Alastor Moody emerged from the house. "Do yer know where they'd taken her?"_

_"Did Voldemort summon you?" Albus asked, his eyes not twinkling anymore._

_"Had he, I would not have been here," Snape replied irritably, pushing past them and making his way inside. In the doorway, Fletcher stood, contorting his hands together. Snape eyed him, "God save you, Fletcher." The words, spoken in a dangerously low tone, had an instant effect on the bandy-legged man—his face adapted a sickening pallor in fright. But Snape ignored him, that was not the time for rebuking the nonexistent pawn in the game._

_He went inside the house, looking around. At the back of his mind, Snape noted how the walls decorated with photo frames had no picture of the girl. But Potter's home life was not what he was interested in. He looked for clues to signify if Potter was actually taken by the Death Eaters or something entirely different had befallen her. The shattered showpiece of what looked like Laughing Buddha was laying on the floor. But other than that, there was nothing that confirmed the happenings so assumed by them. Albus followed him inside, looking pensive. "Come upstairs, Severus." The two men made their way up the stairs into the only one unlocked room. "The Dursleys must have left her alone some hours ago for somebody to have intruded," Albus said._

_"Blood," Snape said, crouching before the shattered pieces of glass and owl treats._

_"Merlin," Albus mumbled. "Is it hers?"_

_"I cannot determine that without at least knowing Potter's blood group," Snape murmured. "But to me, it seems more of Potter's attempt at defence." He got up, "Why would the armed Death Eaters resort to the typical Muggle ways of violence?!"_

_Behind him, Dumbledore nodded in agreement._

_Snape glanced around, noting the unmade bed, removed floorboards and the half-open window. He ran his hand down one of the walls, "There is a slight crack." Albus moved up to have a closer look of the said wall. "It could be a sign of violence."_

_"It could be the work of some Muggles, I am coming to think," Albus suggested._

_"No," Snape refused. "Had it, the neighbours must have noticed something or heard some commotion, at the very least. But they seem peacefully asleep."_

_"You have a point, yes," Dumbledore said, caressing his beard. "Do we stand a chance?"_

_Snape turned his back to the Headmaster, looking out of the window as the unspoken words sunk in—do they stand a chance of retrieving the girl alive. "The Dark Lord does nothing without an audience."_

_"So, she can still be safe," Dumbledore inferred._

_"Alive, perhaps; safe—the Dark Lord is seldom so merciful," Snape said in a steely voice._

_"I'm calling am emergency meeting," Dumbledore announced. "We must-"_

_Suddenly, Snape's free hand travelled to his marked forearm. "I must leave," he said, quickly leaving the room. Dumbledore followed behind._

_"If you can, Severus, bring her along," he said, "Even if that means blowing your covers-"_

_Snape came to an abrupt stop and turned to face his employer, "I do remember my promise, old man!" With that said, he exited the house, heart racing in both anger and fear._

_I remember my promise, Lily._

*******THTP*****THTP**

In the present day, Severus sat in the study of the Prince Manor. The study table was covered with Parchments, but the man was deep in thoughts. Even the most inapt could see Potter needed professional help.

The change in her demeanour, the fury in her eyes and her words—'And I thought, I'm already dead.' There was something in her voice that he had found the most disturbing. Maybe, it was the absolute absence of hope? Or the slight maniacal turn to it?

_If the girl is losing her touch to sanity, I am sure, Albus would, too_. 

But the matter was hardly related to the Headmaster anymore. The outside war could be fought only when she could restrain her inner tumult.

He had noticed the pattern—the mere mentioned of the pregnancy triggered her. It was not uncommon for victims to react in ways alike. The entire idealistic protocol had been followed incorrectly, he thought. Initially, Potter was allowed to attend regular classes right after being rescued after the days of ordeal, without providing her with any assistance from an adult. Then, when she had tried perpetrate the act of suicide, the matter was rather brushed away without giving her any proper counselling. And now, they were expecting her to accept the atrocious idea of bringing forth a child of rape, without caring about her fading sense of sanity would be the last straw at pushing the girl towards the side she was meant to fight. And for what? Only to keep the girl out of public eye? Or for Dumbledore 's twisted Greater Good!

Well, no matter how much he denied the fact, Potter was still not an adult—neither by chronological age nor by her maturity, never mind.

The girl possessed rage—of the nature that he was not unbeknownst to. Snape had witnessed that similar fire in the mirror—and he was well aware of the consequential events, too. Unconsciously, he rested his hand on the Dark Mark.

_Fury has the power to eat one hollow. _

And after discovering his own self to have become nothing but empty with anger and guilt, how could he let somebody else slip away, too?

*******THTP*****THTP**

**A/N:** Are you liking where the story is going? Do let me know in your reviews... It is like a morale boost for me when I read your comments, really.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**A/N: **Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! :)

**WARNING #2**: This particular chapter has some scenes of graphic violence, mainly at the end.

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 12: The Cage Of Past**

Phineas Nigellus Black, Severus could bet, was feigning the snores from his portrait that was hung in the Headmaster's circular office. He wordlessly cast a _Silencio _around themselves. Black instantly peeked his eye open, confirming Snape's doubts.

"That was hardly necessary, Severus," Albus said in his nonchalant and calm voice. He was leaning in his chair leisurely, to Snape's annoyance, when he himself could not take a moment worth of rest!

"I dare say, it was," he said silkily. "You would not like the entire Wizarding community to know the Golden Girl is losing her mind."

Dumbledore's blue eyes raised at him before reclaiming their calm. "Now, now, my boy, I am sure you are only over assuming things."

Snape scowled at him with bitterness. "Well, then. If my word will not suffice, do see for yourself."

"I hope I had the time," the older man sighed, opening his drawer. "But I am too burdened with work." He took the can of Lemon Drops out. "At least, Alastor has done me a great favour by accepting the post as the Defence Professor."

"Make sure you are not hiring a Death Eater this year, as well," he said sardonically.

The Headmaster chuckled, popping one candy into his mouth, and offering the can to his employee. Snape's scowl deepened, the old man eventually withdrew the can. "I will be sure of that. Though, no Death Eater is anymore interested in Hogwarts since the word of Giselle not being in the castle has reached the desperate ears."

"I assume, Horace is trying to do a satisfactory job at keeping the loquacious mouths in line," Severus said.

"A fine job, yes," the older man nodded. "With young Mr. Malfoy not attending the school this year, the Slytherins are laying low. Have you heard anything from the Malfoys?"

"Of course, not. They would only contact me to kill me," he said dryly.

"Is the Malfoy boy Marked?" Dumbledore asked.

"I have no idea," Snape said dismissively. "Since Lucius' conviction after pulling his act at the Department of Mysteries, Draco had been present at the meetings more often than not. But I am not certain about the Mark. However, I am not here to discuss about the Death Eaters. I am here to bring into your ignorant notice a very imperative issue."

"I'm sure, Severus, what you think to be insanity is merely hysteria."

"Oh? Do you?" Snape drawled acerbically. "Hysteria that might soon drag her to her edge, I am afraid."

Dumbledore let a small smile, "Are you concerned about Giselle?"

"Albus," Severus warned. "I am merely paving a way for your little pawn to fight your battle! Because, apparently, none of you are capable enough."

The old man sighed, sitting back, "For that, Severus, you have got about a year. Pave the way for her, prepare her."

"To die?" Snape said sardonically. "Judging by her plight, even if the girl is able to stand the war, she would quit on life, later. Mark my words."

"Train her, Severus," Albus repeated.

"She needs help!" Snape banged the table in frustration.

"Then, do help her," the Headmaster said calmly.

"Professional help, Albus!" Snape spat.

"We cannot risk the word to spread-"

"For Merlin's sake, Albus!" Snape drew a sharp breath. "You are not daft and neither am I. We both know it is not merely about the word getting out." He leaned forward, "You are keen upon playing your dirty games under your charade."

Albus, in return, continued to smile, "Don't call it charade, Severus. I have my reasons."

"Except manipulating the girl to remain blind to your ways?" Snape said bitterly.

"Yes," was the reply that came after a pause.

"Then, pray change my perspective," Severus said deliberately slowly.

"I cannot allow her to indulge in the web of her emotions, Severus," the Headmaster said. "But I am not without a heart. I will, _**myself**_, arrange for what she needs—a mind healer, a loving home, everything—but after the war."

"And what makes you think that she could fight the war in her daze?" the Potions Master asked.

"You tell me, Severus, what does one achieve in one's emotional vulnerability?" The words pierced through the other man, sharply.

Snape got to his feet in a swift motion. "It was not my emotional vulnerability that drew me to join the Dark Lord, it was my lack of control!"

"Do sit down, my boy-"

"And I can see the Potter girl following the same footsteps!" He banged the table again. "If only you could see beyond your 'Greater Good'!"

Dumbledore, too, left his chair and came to stand beside his young employee. "I don't think Lily's child can be so weak."

Snape turned to his sharply. "Do, Not. Play. Your. Games. With. Me."

"Her mother fought for the light and so would she-"

"Her mother was brought up to be strong and I cannot say the same for her orphaned daughter," Snape whispered fiercely.

Dumbledore slowly went back and reclaimed his seat. "What do you want to do?"

Snape narrowed his eyes in annoyance, "A mind healer, Headmaster! I have spent a good amount of time putting my own self into jeopardy to stand on my promise of protecting the Potter girl, and I would not like to see the girl perpetrating an act to take her own life!"

"Only to keep your promise, then?" Dumbledore murmured.

"What are you implying?" Severus challenged.

"Nothing at all," was the simple lie. "You are a good man, Severus. I am sure you know how hard to push her so as not to make her forget about the real motive of her life." Before Snape could think of an apt and equally bitter reply, his expressions changed from that of anger to alarm. "Your Dark Mark?" Dumbledore enquired in concern as the Mark had never blazed since Snape had blown his covers.

"No, the wards just went off," he said with his tone laced with impatience. "A certain pesky student has _**dared to**_ enter my personal lab without my permission."

"Ah, I see Giselle is reclaiming her old personality," Albus chuckled. Snape ignored him and bid a terse farewell to his employer, before apparating away.

*******THTP*****THTP**

Snape was asleep, Giselle concluded after keeping a watch on his room for a long time. She could see no light under his door. There had been no sound or movement in about forty minutes. The clock was striking half past twelve and the Manor was silent and mostly dark—even the elves had called it a day. That, she decided, was the most favourable time for her to execute her plan!

Giselle, hidden under her invisibility cloak, quietly made her way to the second floor of the Manor. Most of the corridors were dimly lit with candles or lanterns but it hardly mattered as the tip of her wand was illuminated with enough light for her not to trip. To her relief, all the portraits on the way were fast asleep, too. She ascended the flights of stairs and as silently as she could, reached the second floor.

The door to Snape's Potions Lab was not even locked. She only had to twist the knob simply to enter inside. Giselle had not expected such an easy way in. She had never actually ventured inside the devil's territory, only had been shown the place from outside, by Lolly.

She enhanced the _Lumos_ on her wand as she moved around inside. The lab was similar to the one at Hogwarts in many aspects, she noted. It was obviously not made to fit a batch of students, but other than that it seemed very much alike. She started looking around the counters but found them empty except for some cauldrons put on stasis. She looked around to find another door—the ingredients-cupboard, she understood. Wishing that the door was not locked, she quickly tried to open the door. Without any resistance, it opened. Giselle gasped at the ease as well as the size of the cupboard.

It was no less than a proper room filled with shelves of bottled ingredients and potion vials. Sone closed cabinets, too, among the shelves housed the paraphernalia. But Giselle could not risk being caught looking for the specific herbs.

"_Accio_ Tanacetum vulgare_!_" she said with her wand held tight. Nothing happened. She doubted her pronunciation and tried again. But the results were similar. She assumed the specific herb not to be present there. "_Accio_ Mentha pulegium_**!**_" Again, nothing happened.

_Of course! How could anything be easy for me!_

She tried again, "_Accio_ Hydrastis canadensis!" Finally, a cabinet shot opened and a jar filled with green leaves came flying. Acting on her Seeker's reflexes, she caught the jar before it could collide with any wall. Giselle felt triumphant, holding the precious jar in her hands. In the weak light of her wand all she could see were the green leaves that would return her her freedom!

She had to suppress a strong urge to stomach the leaves immediately. She knew they might work better with lukewarm water. That was how the witches used it in pre-historic times. She opened the jar and took a handful of the leaves from it, returning the jar back to the cabinet. Pocketing the said leaves, she left the room. But as she re-entered the main lab, Giselle froze in her tracks.

Snape stood right in front of her, holding his wand, lit with Lumos. "Show yourself, Potter." His voice sounded rather bored. Giselle realised that she was still under her cloak, but the door being opened would have easily exposed her. "Show. Yourself. Potter." Snape repeated. "Before I am compelled to use a spell that you would not like."

After that incident in the sick room, she had simply avoided seeing the man for the day. Her outburst, she was sure, was going to cause her a good deal of trouble. Sighing, Giselle removed her cloak, not wanting to risk getting caught with the herbs if he used magic. Snape's lips curled into an ugly wince of annoyance as she had revealed herself. "Old habits die hard, don't they, Potter?!" He said sarcastically. "Stealing again, I see."

"I'm not stealing," she was quick to defend herself. "Professor."

"Oh, I did not realise you were devoted to Potion-making enough to be sleepwalking around," he said silkily, irking Giselle.

"I was... I had come here to take a potion, sir," she lied with only a little hesitation.

"May I ask, Miss Potter, which potion did you feel the need to devour after wasting an entire batch of assiduously prepared potions?" He folded his arms to his chest.

"Er..." She bit her lips in nervousness, avoiding any eye contact, in case he decided to use _**Legilimency**_ on her. "I needed a...Pain Reliever, sir." She started rubbing her temples, "I had a headache...a severe one..."

"Headache? I see," he said in a very low voice. "Where?"

"Huh?"

"The potion, you daft child, where is the potion?" He rolled his eyes.

"Er... I didn't find it..." She had a strong feeling that Snape was far from accepting her excuse. Yet, she played along, "I was looking for it..."

Without uttering a word, with a mere flick of his wand, Snape summoned a vial from the other room. The small phial flew through to him. He caught it and offered it to Giselle. In shock, she stared from the Professor to the potion. "Take, Potter. If I were to poison you, I would have been more covert about my methods."

"Th-thank you," she blurted, taking the vial. She stuffed in into her empty pocket, concealing her shock. "I'll go now." His gaze followed her out of the lab, under which Giselle tried hard not to flinch.

**_THTP_THTP**

Severus snorted in derision—_either the girl was too much of an imbecilic or perceived herself to be too well-witted**. **_It was, with clear letters, written on her face that she was lying. It certainly was not a Pain Reliever that she was looking for.

He walked inside the other room. Everything was untouched. He raised his wand, "Point me..." When his wand led him in the direction of a particular cabinet, he was pretty sure of what to expect. He slid the cabinet open and the tip of his wand pointed at a jar, full of herbs.

A sense of urgency grew in his chest as he turned and left the lab in a few, long strides, cursing under her breath.

"If this is not insanity, what is!"

*******THTP*****THTP**

Closing the door to her room, Giselle took the leaves out of her pocket. Thankfully, it was not linty. Little at a time would do, she decided. She took the first uncertain bite and tried to chew. But the bitterness was unbearably rancid.

She ran inside the bathroom and spit the leaves away. They had left a sickening taste in her mouth. Cursing, she returned to her room. They were used to prepare potions, which she could not. So, perhaps if she took the herbs with warm water, they would not taste so bitter.

"_Aguamenti_!" She filled the empty goblet, kept on the side cabinet, with water. Then, she put a warming charm on it. Giselle ground the leaves with another spell and added the same in the warm water. She was fairly certain that it would work. Once the mixture was into her system, she would get rid of _it_—forever! Then she could continue her life without an additional problem to worry about.

She could go back to Hogwarts, be with her friends, be the closest to normal she could. Or she would just go to her parents, her Godfather—where she would be loved, cared for. Where nobody would expect her to save the world, where her insecurities would not be laughed upon, where nobody would look down upon her for not being the strongest, and where she would not feel guilty for not fighting harder against that monster! A place where her own eyes would not remind her of her fears, her ineptness, her failure!

With those thoughts invading her mind, Giselle picked the goblet up and held it in her hand safely. The greenish liquid with a mass of small pieces of leaves accumulated beneath, tempted her beyond measure. It was the only way out of her miseries, her embarrassment—the only key to free her from the cage of her past-

"_Expelliarmus_!" The sharp cry took her with a jolt, as the firmly held goblet was empowered by an invisible force that snatched it from her hand. It flew across the room and collided with the opposite wall. The liquid splashed wildly, gathering into a pool on the floor.

Giselle screamed, bringing her hands to cover her ears. Her knees buckled, bringing her to the ground.

"You, utterly foolish girl!" Snape's voice was the last thing that reverberated through her brain, before a trail of flashbacks took her over.

*******THTP*****THTP**

_"You have had immense luck escaping your ultimate fate many a times, Giselle Potter," Voldemort said a sickening smirk. "But not today. Something tells me, this night won't end for you. Either it will take you along or you will carry the memories of this night until you are alive!"_

_Before Giselle could retort, the door opened again, admitting a slew of cloaked, masked figures in the room. "Come, my followers," Voldemort laughed with mirth. "Look who we have among us today!" The cloaked figures knelt to his feet and kissed his robes. Rising only when Voldemort pointed at Giselle. "We have caught Dumbledore's Greatest Pawn!"_

_A number of masked faces turned to look at her and Giselle felt rage engulfing her soul. She could not recognise a single member but felt deep loathing for each of them. With a corner of her eyes, she glared at the murderer of her parents—the reason she had to grow up without a family. She curled her fists into balls, desiring nothing more than to bring the man to his death!_

_If only she had her wand..._

_"Praise be, my Lord," one of the figures said with immense joy in his voice. "The war is ours now!"_

_"Did you ever doubt it would not be, Nott?" Voldemort said vilely._

_"No, no, my Lord, not even for a moment!" Nott tried to defend himself. "My Lord is destined to be victorious!"_

_"That I am," the Dark Lord said in a whisper. He turned to Giselle, smirking at her sickeningly. "Do you recognise any of them, Potter?"_

_She kept her eyes on Voldemort, despite the pain in her scar, Her breaths came in sharp with rage, but other than that, she remained defiantly silent._

_Bellatrix rushed to her, that time unstopped by her master. The lunatic woman grabbed her arm cruelly and slapped her across her face. "My Lord asked you something, answer Him!"_

_Giselle heard some of the Death Eaters snickering. She restrained herself from even wincing! "Fuck you!" She spat on the face of her Godfather's killer. The woman's features darkened but before she could strike Giselle again, Voldemort said with mocking calmness, "Bella, look what you have done to her already. Leave her to me now."_

_At that, Giselle felt the cold trickle of blood rolling down from the corner of her lips. With exasperation, she wiped the blood with her sleeves._

_"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix bowed, stepping away from her._

_"Look who we have here, Giselle," he said softly, "Your Professor." One of the Death Eaters advanced towards her and removed his mask._

_"Snape?" she mumbled in shock._

_Ron's words came back to her, always accusing the man of treachery. She would have known! She even had a legit doubt on him, yet the revelation did not cease to appall her. The Potions Master looked just as vindictive as always, still dressed in his usual black robes. Yet, some aspect about him made her sick. He was not the dour Professor anymore, he was one of Voldemort's men—one of those who preyed on deaths!_

_"Yes, your Professor Snape," Voldemort mocked. "Severus has brought us news." He turned to the Potions Master, "Tell me, Severus, does Dumbledore know?"_

_"They all do, my Lord," Snape said coldly. "I dare say, that old coot is tearing his hair. His old heart is too fragile to accept the flaw in his well-crafted plan."_

_"He trusted you!" Giselle shrieked._

_"One of the many glaring errors that he committed," Snape said with a smirk._

_"And you are proud of that?!" she hardly mumbled._

_"I was of help to my Lord," he said dryly, "And I hold pride in everything I am able to do for my Lord."_

_"Your Lord is a swine!" she shrieked, anger rising to limits. That bastard had killed her parents, had killed Cedric and her Godfather._

_"How dare you!" Bellatrix yelled, pointing her wand at her. "Crucio!"_

_Giselle fell to the ground. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that she no longer knew where she was... White-hot knives were piercing every inch of her skin, her head was surely going to burst with pain; she was screaming more loudly than she'd ever screamed in her life._

_"Stop!" yelled Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix inmediately withdrew the curse, leaving Giselle panting and trembling on the ground. "She is mine to deal with, only mine!"_

_"But, my Lord, she tried to disgrace you," Bellatrix pointed out._

_"The mere words uttered by an imbecilic Half-blood cannot smirch the honour of our Lord," Snape said._

_"Right, Severus," he smirked. "Another action by you, Bella, won't be tolerated by me."_

_"My apologies, my Lord," she went and stood aside._

_Giselle again stood up, hiding her grimace, to face the man. She could not prove to be weak! Her parents did not give their lives to see their daughter quitting!_

_"Giselle," the Dark Lord said, "I won't kill you so painfully if you beg me and apologise to me," he offered. "I will give you an instant death, painlessly."_

_"Do whatever you can, Tom Riddle!" She said, anger so evident in her eyes, "I will never beg you!" When her parents never gave up, how could she? The Death Eaters around them gasped when she called him by his name._

_"Oh, flaunting your knightliness, are you?" he smirked. "Alright then, if you want to invite pain, I won't deny you." Before she could even move, she was again put under the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was worse this time, due to it being second time. She screamed at the top of her voice, wishing for it to end. He withdrew the spell after a considerable amount of time, leaving her weak and trembling._

_"Have you changed your decision now?" He asked. "Or do you have a desire to endure some more pain ?"_

_Panting and shivering in pain, she said, "I w...on't ever-ever beg to you."_

_"Oh, so adamant, are you, Giselle Potter?" He said mockingly. "Alright then, I will make you beg for mercy in my way."She didn't care what he would do to her, but she wouldn't relent._

_"My Lord-" Bellatrix said in excitement, as if craving for the chance, but he said, "Bring her to her knees!"_

_Bellatrix rushed to her, followed by another cloaked figure. Giselle's arms were roughly grabbed by them. She was forcefully pushed down, to her knees. She tried to release herself but the Cruciatus was having a toll on her. Her physical strength was reduced drastically._

_"Let me give you a taste of Darkness," Voldemort had whispered the words softly, approaching her. "Hold out her arm!" A third Death Eater came to her side and pulled her arm from Bellatrix's grip, holding it out to him. Giselle was reminded of the night at the Graveyard again when her blood was used to resurrect the bastard._

_Voldemort, with the tip of his wand, slid her sleeve up, exposing the pale skin of her forearm. With another of his sickening smirk, he pressed his wand to her arm—the pain in her scar worsened, threatening to bring tears to her eyes. His wand sent something akin to an electric shock down her arm, accompanied by searing pain. Giselle felt as if her skin was being cut opened with a blade. She bit her lip so as not to cry in what seemed like never-ending agony, until she tasted blood. Tears leaked down her cheeks involuntarily but no sound escaped her lips. Giselle noticed something flash on Snape's face, an emotion perhaps, but was suddenly vanished, replaced by a callous indifference to her suffering._

_When the wand was withdrawn, he said, "You are owned by the Dark! I own you!"_

_At his words, bile rose in her stomach. The Death Eater abruptly let her go and she lost her balance, falling down completely. Her forearm bore the Dark Mark!_

_Death Eaters laughed openly at her plight, but her mind was too occupied with the pain to register their voices. Her hands were shaking, even lifting the abused arm sent waves of excruciating pain down her entire body._

_"If you don't want a repeat of that, beg Him for mercy," warned Rodolphus Lestrange._

_It took her a while to catch her breath and control the tears. When she opened her eyes, they only held fury. "I. Will. NOT!"_

_Some Death Eaters gapped and some raised their wands at her. "How dare you!" Ballatrix yelled._

_Voldemort turned back to Giselle, still collapsed on the ground,"Let's try again, Potter," he said, raising his wand again._

_But before he could do anything, she shouted, "You cannot break me! I am not scared of you!"_

_The others gasped. He took a step towards her, bending to her level, "What did you say?"_

_"I am not scared of you!" she spat. "You think you're very brave to be torturing an untrained, teenage witch? You claim to be the most powerful wizard of all times, but that is all you can do? You needed the help of so many of your followers to catch me. After your continuously failing attempts when you have finally abducted me, you are taking pride in it? You are rejoicing, for you know that now that if you throw the killing curse at me, I will die, unlike the last times!" She paused to draw a breath. "Shame on you, you bastard, trying to prove your strength to an amateur witch! Even if you kill me today, I won't ever consider you to be strong, for you are WEAK!"_

_Several Death Eaters raised their wands in her direction again, but their Lord held out his hand to stop them all."So, you think I am weak?"_

_"Yes, you are!" she stated firmly. "You will not let me compete against you because you know you cannot stand me. I hope you remember our dual in that Graveyard! Remember, how you lost-"_

_Voldemort's long, pale fingers suddenly caught hold of her face. He held her roughly by her chin, digging his fingers in her skin. With her good hand, Giselle slapped his hand away. His red eyes flared up with anger, he grabbed her hair brutally. Her hand followed his reflex, trying to get rid of it. But as her fingers brushed by Voldemort's, the pain in her scar intensified._

_"You will beg for mercy, Potter," he said callously. "For I will make your plight such that death would seem like a blessing!"_

_"Try your luck, Tom Riddle," she tried her best to sound fearless and bold. But deep down, she wished for a miracle to save her..._

_He laughed bitterly before abruptly standing up, bringing Giselle to her feet as well, still having a tight grip on her hair. As he strode out of the room, he kept his hold on her, dragging her along. "Take her to the basement," he ordered._

_Bellatrix stepped up, followed by two others. They grasped her arms tightly. "You will pay with more than just your life, baby girl!" Bellatrix let out a derisive laugh._

_Giselle did not wince, did not scream—she kept the defiance intact on her face. Before leaving the room, the last thing she noticed was the Death Eaters snickering, except one certain Potions Maste_r.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**Warning #2**: This chapter has scenes of violence and rape.

**A/N**: This chapter was rather tough to write as I know I am dealing with a serious issue here, something that unfortunately people go through... I have tried my best to do justice with the subject.

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 13: The Value Of Life**

**Previously:**

_"Take her to the basement," he ordered._

_Bellatrix stepped up, followed by two others. They grasped her arms tightly. "You will pay with more than just your life, baby girl!" Bellatrix let out a derisive laugh._

_Giselle did not wince, did not scream—she kept the defiance intact on her face. Before leaving the room, the last thing she noticed was the Death Eaters snickering, except one certain Potions Master._

*******THTP*****THTP**

_The basement was cold, so cold that Giselle was shivering. Sitting on the stone floor, she had wrapped her arms around herself tightly but to no avail. Aunt Petunia's hand-me-down cotswool nightgown and her Merino-wool socks provided little to no resistance against the severe chills that were running down her spine._

_She did not know how long it had been since being thrown into that enclosed space. The basement had bare walls and a low ceiling to accompany her. The only light that penetrated in came from under the door, provided by the two lamps lit outside. Other than that, the space was empty. It was so silent that she could hear each of her breaths coming and going._

_Her forearm and scar still ached, but the worst of their edge was gone. The pain was replaced by anger! Giselle avoided looking at the wretched Mark at all. As the immediate threat to her life was gone, the reality of her situation was beginning to seep in. Giselle was held captive at a Manor, at the mercy of Voldemort and his cabal of Death Eaters. She remembered Snape telling them that Dumbledore knew about her absence, but she wondered if he knew where she was..._

_She knew she did not have much time or chance to survive without help. Giselle had no wand with herself. Voldemort, she knew, would not spare her life for long. She would never beg him, but he wouldn't wait to claim her life, anyway. It was not the death that threatened her, it was the idea that she would not be able to see the people she loved, ever again; the idea that she would end up dead in a matter of hours and her people would come to know only when those scoundrels tell them._

_If the Prophecy was to be believed, her death would mean Voldemort's rise to rule over the Wizarding World, unrestrained. There would be no War without her... It nauseated her to even wonder what he would do to her people._

_She did not know how the wards at Surrey fell... Perhaps because Aunt Petunia was not home. Only if she had the extensive knowledge of magical wards, she would have stopped them from leaving. Hermione would have known about it._

_She leaned her head back, resting it against the wall. There was no escape from the basement. She had a strange feeling that they had left her there to slowly die of isolation and starvation. They would only open the door when she was reduced to a corpse. But that would be better than seeing their faces again._

_But all those notions left her head when the door opened. The light from the lamps made her squint before the door was slammed shut. Standing in the doorway was Voldemort. Giselle could see his silhouette in the door of the basement. Despite the rising pain in her scar, she pasted the same defiant look on her face again, building up her conscience to be bold and fearless—or at the very least to appear confident. It was never a good idea to let your enemy see your vulnerabilities._

_"Settling in, aren't we?" Voldemort's high and cold voice echoed in the basement. He stepped in, descending the stairs, his robes flowing dramatically behind. "I have given you ample time to contemplate your options. Are you ready to beg for my mercy?"_

_"Are you here to make a deal, Riddle? To beg me to beg you so that you can maintain your reputation in front of your cronies?" She let on a smirk._

_"You will soon know why I am here, Giselle Potter," he whispered. He took out his wand from his sleeve and rested the tip on his own forearm._

_Giselle's scar and forearm flared up with pain. She drew a sharp breath, putting her good hand on her scar, pressing and rubbing it, leaving the forearm untouched. It burned with pain and brought unwanted tears to her eyes, but she refrained from giving him the satisfaction of hearing her cries of agony._

_"You see, Giselle," he said, walking closer to her. "I own you."_

_"Shut the fuck up, Tom Riddle!" She managed to say, despite the pain. "You will never!"_

_"But I do," he laughed bitterly. "I can make you suffer as and when I like—and I will."_

_"Play your games, but don't expect me to fall prey to your ways," she enunciated each word clearly. "You will never have that kind of impact on me, Riddle."_

_"It seems, Dumbledore didn't educate you much about my ways," he smirked horridly._

_"Dumbledore has taught me enough never to beg the killer of my parents!" She retorted._

_"Ah, soon you will forget about the old scars that I gave you," he said mockingly. "For I will give you some fresh ones to remember, forever." He crouched in front of her. Giselle left her scar and ignoring the discomfort, saw directly in her eyes, remaining firm. "When I am through with you, Potter, you will regret ever acting anything akin to courageous in front of me."_

_"A man—or whatever you are—like you who himself is fearful enough not to even come by himself to take his revenge from a teenager does not look good talking about courage," she remarked acridly._

_His red eyes blazed up with indignation. But Giselle ceased to withdraw hers. Voldemort, suddenly, grasped her neck in her snake-like fingers tightly. Giselle's hand, in reflex, came to remove his. She dug her nails in his rough flesh but he did not seem to budge. She started kicking and squirming, as black dots started appearing in front of her eyes._

_The Dark Lord had a glint in his red eyes, drawing his disgusting pleasure from her plight. Giselle punched him hard on his Adam's apple. The blow seemed to have the desired impact as, out of shock, he instantly let her go. Giselle fell back against the wall, catching her breath. She unconsciously kept rubbing the her neck, panting._

_"I will make you pay, Potter."_

_When she looked, Giselle saw him unbuttoning his outer robes. They fell off his shoulders, pooling on the floor. Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine. She tried to conceal her emotions, though. Voldemort crouched before her again. The close proximity discomforted her. She unconsciously pushed herself back, against the wall._

_"Death will come as a blessing," he said in a horrid whisper. "But only when I allow it to." He brought his finger to press against her scar, shooting waves of pain through her. She could not restrain the gasp that left her mouth. He slip his fingers down her face, making bile rise in Giselle's stomach._

_Giselle slapped his hand away, but he caught hold of her hand. His mouth curled up in a malicious smirk, "Your Mudblood mother was just as stubborn, Potter. Look where she ended up. But you will not be subjected to the same fate, girl, not so soon. You owe a greater debt to me."_

_As he moved closer to her, Giselle, with her free hand, aimed for his eye. She gave him a jab in his eye. He jerked away, leaving her captured hand. She leapt to her feet in one fast motion and ran up the stairs to reach the door._

_But before she could, Voldemort manually grabbed her leg, pulling her down. Giselle held onto the banister for support but it did not aid her longer. Voldemort had again resorted to the use of magic. With invisible force controlling her, she was swept off her feet, landing on the ground again._

_"Too childish of you, Potter," he laughed in derision. "You can never escape. I have my Death Eaters guarding every gate of this Manor."_

_Giselle got to her feet again, facing the vile wizard. "Of course, you have. You are too scared to let me go, aren't you? Because you know what a miserable chance you actually hold against me!"_

_Voldemort flicked his wand, wordlessly, sending her flying to collide with a wall. The back of Giselle's head hit against it strongly, making her dizzy. She collapsed on her knees, holding her head._

_He came and stood closer to her, before crouching to her level. "The War was always mine."_

_"Like the last time?" She said sardonically._

_That seemed to have ignited the indignation within him. Like a wild animal, he jumped on top of her, capturing Giselle to the ground. With his body rested between her folded knees, Voldemort fixed his hands on the ground, to her side. "I own you, Giselle Potter." But as he tried to move forward, closer to her, Giselle gripped his shoulders tightly with her hands, keeping her elbows straight. Next, she slightly moved to her left side and put her leg on his hips, followed by the other._

_"You can never own me!" Giselle managed to say, gritting her teeth. She was not without the minimal training of self defence that they provided in the Muggle schools._

_She, then, swiftly moved her hands down to his elbows from his shoulders. Voldemort's natural reaction was to pull away, but as he did, she caught hold of his wrists and with her legs now free, began to kick him wherever she could. She landed some good kicks on his chin and chest. But the lack of shoes lowered the desired impact._

_However, for the second time, he had to let her go. Working on adrenaline, Giselle ran for the door. But that time, what came to stop her was not a hand, but a wand. Voldemort's nonverbal Petrificus Totalus hit her squarely on her back, paralysing her with effect. As a result, she collapsed on the stone stairs._

_"I told you, Potter, you cannot escape," he said coldly._

_Giselle could only move her eyes, and with them she saw as he advanced towards her. With her hair, he dragged Giselle back down to lay before him. "You are at my mercy, girl—of which, I have none."_

_The terror and rage grew in her heart as well as the panic of not being able to move. Being under the spell, there was nothing that she could do. Voldemort reclaimed his earlier position, overpowering her from top. In the fading light that came from the outside lamps, his red eyes reflected his mutated soul. Giselle's breaths came in hitched, her blood was rising in loathe, and her body was desperate to find any opportunity to be free of him!_

_Spidery fingers tore clothes and tossed broken buttons to the floor. But Giselle's eyes remained constant on his loathsome face, giving away all the hatred she could conjure. Voldemort's wretched face turned up in a malice lacing smirk while red eyes brimmed with demented pleasure. His every touch on her skin flared both—pain through her scar and fire through her soul. If prayers worked, she had already sent a million to whoever was listening. She prayed for a miracle, anything at all to either stop him or give her the chance to help her own self._

_He inflicted pain—both physical and emotional—with his hands working to torment her body and his mouth to torment her mind. Every part of her that Voldemort laid his hands on felt dead of sensation. Her body, as if, wanted to expel those corrupted parts from her being. Giselle bore with each scar that he gave her with as much courage as she could. But the first tear escaped her eyes only when the beast crossed all boundaries of humanity._

_As Voldemort raped her brutally, Giselle fixed her gaze to the low ceiling of the basement. The body-bind prevented any gasps of pain and her own mind buried the physical agony. In the dark of the room, she could see blood—blood that stained his hands, of her parents, of Cedric, of Sirius and numerous others. She was compelled to wonder where she went wrong...so wrong to have deserved a fate like that. She saw the fragments of her life—all littered before her eyes in the dark, narrating the most miserable story they could. Tears kept leaking down her temples—both of physical agony and that of mental—each tear had volumes to express._

_Long, stretched hours of the late night saw Giselle's brutal assault. When it lasted, she had lost each fragment of anything akin to hope or compassion that she ever had. It was worse than how an attack by the Dementors would have made her feel. The ordeal left her empty._

_With a wordless flick of Voldemort's wand, Giselle got free of the body-bind. Yet, she ceased to move... The Dark Lord got to his feet and gave her sickening smirk, "I hope you have learnt your lesson, Potter. If you have not, don't worry—there will be many repeats in the time to come."_

_Giselle remained just as still and silent as was under the body bind. Her brain conjured no answers and her mouth knew not to speak. She kept her eyes stuck to the ceiling, drawn away to another dimension. Voldemort's distancing footsteps had no impact on her._

_For long, she remained like a corpse, even feeling like one lifeless form. Her entire body ached and reflected clear signs of abuse, so much so that it made it harder for her to even move... But when she did, Giselle ran a hand over her temples, wiping away any tears that still remained. Her own dearth of capability to fight disgusted her ad nauseam. After lying in that position for Merlin knew how long, she gathered her energy to get up. As her eyes fell on the pool of her own blood on the floor, she felt physically sick._

_Giselle picked the remaining tatters of her clothing and wrapped them around herself. Slowly and almost lifelessly, she crawled to a corner of the room. Feeling ill, she curled up into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her eyes were dry and impassively she stared into space._

_Voldemort's words reverberated in her ears:_

_'Something tells me, this night won't end for you. Either it will take you along or you will carry the memories of this night until you are alive!'_

*******THTP*****THTP**

"You, utterly foolish girl!" Snape spat. He felt absolutely flummoxed at the girl.

After leaving the lab, the wards on Potter's room had notified him of the girl being in _fatal_ danger. He had rushed to her room, skidding to an abrupt halt right outside her door. The wards had let him enter as per the magical condition with which they were set up—to let only Severus enter when the girl landed herself in peril.

On seeing Potter holding a goblet, he had immediately used the simple disarming charm on her—deciding against conducting a prior check on the actual contents in the goblet. But as the liquid splashed out and puddled, he noticed the ground bits of herbs in the liquid.

Potter had let out a sonorous scream and ended up recoiling. It seemed to be her natural reaction when it came to deal with shock—covering her ears and screaming. After which, the girl went blank in one of her flashbacks.

"Potter," Snape said slowly. The girl did not budge. He moved closer to her. Her eyes were closed, her hands still covering her ears as she rocked back and forth. "Potter, can you hear me?" But there was no sign of the girl even acknowledging his presence. "Giselle," he tried with her given name, "Can you hear me?"

Potter still rocked herself in her rhythmic motion, lost somewhere far away. Snape could not even identify _exactly which _horrid memory had her in its clutches. That thought unsettled him greatly.

"Potter," he brought his hand to very lightly brush against her shoulder, expecting a repeat of the events of the Hospital Wing when she was made cognizant of her condition. But unlike the last time when she had started screaming, the girl only flinched. Yet, she opened her eyes, still dry of any tear that would usually accompany one at such a time.

She looked at him with fear filled eyes before her green eyes travelled and fixed on something behind the Potions Master. She suddenly leapt to height and ran for her wand that was lain idly on her bed. But Snape's reflexes were way swifter. Before she could, he snatched her wand from her bed and out of her reach. At circumstances like those, giving the girl the custody of her wand was akin to digging a grave for her.

Potter let out another shriek, but that time in frustration. She turned to him, breathing sharply out of anger. "Give my wand back!"

"You will not lay hands on your wand until you cease your hysteria," Snape said simply, never rising his voice.

"Give me my wand!" She yelled in visible frustration. "Give it back, my wand! Give it bloody back to me!"

"Potter, you heard me," he replied in a neutral tone.

"You have NO FUCKING RIGHT to control my actions!" The girl had clearly lost all restraints over her temper as she screamed and shrieked at every other word that she uttered. Snape wished for Albus to watch her and if the man had any shred of shame left, to try and mend the damage that he had caused with his deliberate negligence.

"Miss Potter, kindly contain yourself," Snape said without any hint of rebuke in his tone. "We can sit and converse in a more civilised fashion-"

"To hell with your bloody show of fucking civility!" Her sentences became more and more incoherent and laced with curses, depicting her rising indignation.

"Potter-" But before he could speak, the girl left his side, and ran inside her bathroom. She locked the door immediately. Snape took a moment to himself in order to contemplate the correct method to deal with the anger attack the prone teenager was having—working in an area he was not the sharpest tool in the box—until he heard the shattering of the mirror from inside.

He was reminded of the act that Potter had pulled while in Hogwarts and cursed himself for not putting up _Cushioning Charms_ on all things breakable! He had instead put up wards to alert him each time the girl was in danger, but a situation like that could have been easily avoided by putting up the simple Charm!

He ran to the door, knocking on it in vain. "Open the door, Potter!" As expected, there was no reply. "I am entering." With the warning, he easily unlocked the door with a light touch of wandless magic.

Potter stood among the shards of mirror, each of the pieces reflecting her flustered face, with one of the shards in her hand. She had it already pressed against the wrist of her other hand—that brought Severus to the decision of not using another Disarmament Spell in case it did more damage than gain.

_Merlin, give this girl some sense!_

Albeit not finding himself in a situation like that ever before, he resorted to the only natural instinct that came to him. In a very soft voice—one that he himself did not know of possessing, Snape spoke, "Potter- Giselle, please, put the shard down."

But her eyes remained fixed on her wrist, yet her hands seemed to have frozen. She again looked lost somewhere deep. Snape took advantage of the situation, taking small steps towards her.

"Hand me the shard, child," he said in his smooth voice. He moved closer to her, but Potter still seemed unaware to his close proximity to her. Just when Snape thought he could easily take the shard back from her, he stepped over another piece of broken glass, the sound caused Potter to come back to reality.

She looked up at her Professor, and before Snape could stop her, ran past him, back to the bedroom. To Severus, it felt like a puerile game of hide and seek but it was, in truth, the matter of the girl's life.

Cursing again, he followed her out. "Potter, wait!" He ordered. But the girl remained deaf to his words. Before she could perpetrate something too complex to undo, Snape rushed to her and held her from behind, gripping both of her hands at her back. "LET ME GO!" She shrieked.

"Give me the shard back, Potter!" Snape insisted, trying to free the piece from her hand without causing any damage. But Potter kept on shouting and kicking Snape. They both tussled to get the custody of the broken piece of mirror.

"You cannot STOP ME!" Potter kept on chanting, trying to pull herself off his grip. But Snape successfully—and in fact quite easily—kept his hold on her. Suddenly, the girl gasped. Snape noticed a trickle of blood oozing out of her palm where she had wounded herself while combating.

"Quit it, Potter, it will serve no purpose!" Snape said, trying to uncurl her fingers from the shard. He had sensed how quickly she was losing her energy. Potter's defence against him was growing weaker—which although helped him in that particular situation—but was otherwise worrisome.

His own hand, too, was subjected to the same assault with the sharp edges of the mirror, but that was the last thing that pestered him. His immediate concern was the suicidal teenager who was his responsibility for the year, and who he had to protect with his life!

When Snape successfully snatched the shard from her hand, the girl screamed again—in frustration. The Professor tossed it away, out of her reach. But as she got the leverage, Potter again tried to rush to the bathroom to pick another such piece.

But in time, Snape restrained her again. He avoided touching her wounded hand and held her from her wrists. "Potter, you need to calm yourself," Snape kept saying but his words fell to the deaf ears. Under his fingers, he could feel Potter's old scars on her wrist.

The girl kept on uttering incoherent words. Potter resisted against him as long as her physical energy permitted, before going almost limp and collapsed against him. Snape let go of her wrists once he was sure she was safe to be left. She slid down to the floor, her screams ceased, and curled up in a ball, shaking.

One of her hands still oozed blood but Potter seemed to have no effect at all. Severus cleaned the cut on his own hand with his wand first. It was hardly bothersome in comparison to Potter's exsanguinating palm.

Snape squatted in front of her. "Give me your hand, Potter. It needs to be dressed," he said, holding out his own good hand. But the girl did not comply. Snape tried again, "Give, Potter, I can help the cut-"

"Nobody can help." Snape would have missed the whisper had it not been for the silence of the night.

"Yes, Miss Potter," Severus replied, gingerly taking her bleeding hand, "Only you can help yourself. No one else can." He was a little surprised when she did not resist.

"You're not letting me," she mumbled, still curled up.

Snape noticed the old scars on her wrist—the ones from her attempt at her life at Hogwarts—silver lines, a little bumpy on touch, going horizontally across her otherwise white skin. Snape withdrew his wand and waved it over her wound. "Is this the best you can do?" He waited for an answer, cleaning the cut with magic.

"I want to go." The callous flatness with which it was spoken irked Severus.

"And what will that achieve?" He asked, keeping his own voice monotonous.

The reply came after a long gap. Snape had cleaned her cut and vanished the blood completely from her palm, and transfigured his handkerchief into a bandage when she spoke, "Freedom."

Snape let that sink in. He waited to conjure up the right words to counter her. With clinical expertise, he wrapped the bandage around her hand, "Freedom does not come with death, it comes with life."

"How strange, then," Potter said, her eyes staring at somewhere into space, "That life itself is choking me..." With that, she took her hand back.

Snape remained sitting on the floor as slowly Potter's eyes closed. Exhaustion soon took over the girl and in a matter of minutes, he could hear her breaths coming in a comparatively relaxed rhythm.

Snape stood up and levitated Potter in the air with his wand. He walked out of the room, gingerly taking the girl along through the door. He took her to the sick room.

Snape laid her on the bed slowly so as not to wake her up. He, then, spelled a few potions into her system including a potion to prevent infection due to her wound and a _Dreamless Sleep_. He laid the covers on her, glancing at her sleeping face for one last time. The girl looked so young,

_Just a child_...a voice in his head said. A child they all had failed. The lightening-bolt scar peeked out from behind her hair.

Severus shook his head and drew the curtains around her bed. "Lolly!" He called. The elf appeared immediately. "Stay with Miss Potter for the night. Inform me as she wakes up."

"Is Miss sick, Master?" The elf asked.

"She should be fine by the morning," he said dismissively. The elf nodded but her saddened expressions didn't go amiss. Snape looked at her, wondering how quickly the house-elf got attached to the girl.

He went back to the girl's room. As she was not in the room, the wards allowed him to enter—but they would not have allowed anybody else, he was certain of the magic with which they were set up. But it was time to make some amendments.

Snape went inside and began with vanishing the mess made by the liquid on the floor. He also vanished the mirror shards from the bathroom and restored the mirror. Snape, with expertise, put _Cushioning Charms_ on each mirror or glass that was present in the room, including the windows. He charmed the fireplace safe, just in case the girl decided to be more creative. He charmed the ceiling not to tolerate any ropes to be hanged on the chandeliers. He felt like making the room 'Child proof'.

_Of course. Potter is no less than a little rascal in her current mind. _

Lastly, he reset the wards in her room to allow him entrance at all times, not just when Potter was in life threatening danger. He could not trust the girl after what she had tried to pull that day. But he could not blame her, either.

'_And I thought, I'm already dead._' Her words echoed in Snape's head.

He sat in front of the hearth, looking into the crackling fire. The flames reminded him strongly of Lily... _How different can your daughter be, Lily. _A stray thought crossed his mind. Potter was nothing like her mother or her odious father. She was just an individual who resembled no one, save for her physical appearance that screamed Lily.

He could not fathom Lily being so disappointed with life and James Potter, _well, did he even care about anything other than his hair and a snitch?! But the girl!_ Snape ran a hand down his face. The girl was so adamant upon harming herself. That foolish child could go to any limits to destroy the Dark Lord's progeny.

The offspring be damned for all he cared, but the girl herself! She was the one he was required to protect. It was an intricate task to differentiate the offspring from the Potter girl herself. But she needed to understand that her attempts to harm the remnant of the ordeal, would harm her own self. But her idea of life was bleak. So bleak that death did not threaten her and life did not entice her.

If anything, she was reduced to be an empty vessel—a pawn in Albus' cheap game. A saviour in whom the people put their trust so that they could sleep peacefully at night. As much as Snape was earlier certain that the girl adored the publicity, he doubted that she still did.

Now that he looked around the room, Snape noted how strange it felt, almost un-lived in. Potter's trunk was still packed, despite the girl being living in the house for quite a good few days. Perhaps, she had planned upon leaving too soon after executing her puerile, little plan.

He needed to arrange for a skilled mind-healer very soon, sooner than Potter's suicidal instincts could kick in again. Snape still had her wand with himself and he decided not to give her the very imperative and extremely dangerous piece of wood back until he was sure the girl was stable.

He took the wand out and examined it—it was a new piece, that was given to Potter after her return to Hogwarts. Her old wand, as he was told by his Death Eating fellows, was snapped when Bellatrix and her pack had abducted the girl. That had been one horrible night!

He had witnessed the Dark Lord's torture, joining his coterie, feigning amusement. Snape was not a sentimental man by any means, but something about the girl had affected her. Perhaps, it was the gallantry with which she had faced the Dark Lord. A small part of him had come to even respect her—begrudgingly so. In his days as a Death Eater, Snape had come across many great wizards who had surrendered to the Dark Lord after being subjected to his cruel methods. But Potter had stayed and survived in that basement for more than fifteen days, and had come out unbroken—scarred but unbroken.

He was not unbeknownst to the atrocities she was subjected to. Working as Death Earer in the Dark Lord's territory for years had made him aware with the particularities of his lunacy with which he liked to torment his hostages. Snape had heard stories by the other Death Eaters, too, of how the girl was tortures. They cackled at her defenceless misery and held pride in their deeds.

He was almost impressed but for her recents attempts at giving up. But then again, everyone has their saturation point. For the girl, Snape was certain, that point was too far gone.

Snape pushed the maudlin thoughts away, erecting his shields high. They had a long road to cover in the coming months, which would not be smooth for the girl by any means. But before they could proceed, Potter was supposed to understand the value of life...

Merlin knew how Severus—the one who himself had conceded life as nothing but an underappreciated voyage to merely prove his worth in the war, could be of assistance to the Potter girl in her quest.

*******THTP*****THTP**

**A/N #2**: One of the Guests asked me if the child is of Severus. So, it's a reply to that—Hey! Firstly, thank you for following the story so far, and reviewing. Now the answer—No, Giselle's unborn child is not Severus', it's of Voldemort (as she was kidnapped by him and held captive). I have mentioned it in the early chapters that it's a rape child... I hope that clears all doubts about it. Thanks again for reading! Have a good day! :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 14: Looking For Giselle**

_The midnight of the third of September reciprocated the trepidation in the hearts of the Order members. The sky was raging and pouring heavily._

_On the new moon night, the Malfoy Manor was submerged in the deep blackness of the night. The lightning bolts when fell on the ground, gave away some bleak source of light. The windows were in tremors as the heavy rain fell on them._

_The Dark Lord entertained a fancy for such uncanny midnights to hold meetings as he gained his gratification from the hapless darkness. But the meeting was over two hours ago, yet Snape had remained in the Manor._

_It was the D-Day! The day when the saviour of the Wizarding World was to be rescued—after about sixteen days of captivity in the basement of the Malfoy Manor. The entire Order of Phoenix had put their trust in Severus to rescue their Golden Girl. But what other choice did they have? If not for the Potions Master, nobody could be risked with the task._

_Albus had decided that waging a full-fledged war would be futile for they neither had military support nor a proper plan. Even if they dod wage a war, Potter would not, in her current state, be able to fulfil the Prophecy. Hence, they would lose._

_So Snape as a spy, a double agent, was entrusted with the responsibility of taking the girl back to safety—alive, at all costs. It was not only an errand of the Order but also his own promise to protect the girl with his life that had Snape risking his covers. It was a promise taken in the name of the girl's deceased mother—in the memory of Lily..._

_Snape made his way, hiding in the shadows, to the corridor that led to the basement. Potter's invisibly cloak was hiding him efficiently. Every step that he took was with the utmost silence. Slowly and cautiously, he went down the almost dilapidated corridor with its stone floor and patched walls. His Occlumency shields prevented any show of the agitation that stirred within. It was not death that Snape feared—it was the consequences that would follow if he got caught..._

_He had a perspicacious idea that if he failed in the task of retrieving the Potter girl that night, there would be no second chance. Bellatrix's wand that he had somehow gotten his hands on would soon grab its owner's attention at being missing, and before the lunatic woman realised that she was missing her wand, Snape needed to be done._

_He reached the basement door. Two oil-lamps flickered in the breeze that came from the small window touching the ceiling. He could sense a slew of incantations on the locks, capturing the girl in. He waited in silence with his ears attentive to pick on any footsteps that followed behind or any sound that claimed somebody's presence behind the door._

_When nothing claimed of anyone else's presence, Snape slid the sleek wand out of his robes—Bellatrix's wand, and waved it over the locks. Only hers or the Dark Lord's wands were capable of opening the door. The minutiae that he had a habit of noting in meetings always served him well._

_The lock opened with a click. Snape breathed in relative relief. He slowly pushed the door open, wincing at the eerie creaking sound it made._

_Strong stench of blood mingled with the musty cellar protruded his nose as he stepped in. He feared for the worst... Although it was highly unlikely for the Dark Lord to kill Potter without making a show of it, a stray thought crossed Severus' mind—what if Potter had succumbed to her injuries..._

_But he was unable to see what laid inside for the darkness. The light that came from the lamps in the corridor was all that aided his vision. But Snape refrained from performing any magic inside the room for the fear of letting any wards to go off and alerting the Death Eaters of his intrusion. He pulled out a Muggle torch from pocket and switched it on._

_In the light of the torch, Snape saw that down the stairs, in a corner, a languished body was curled up in self, absolutely unmoving. By the red hair that covered most of the face, he recognised Giselle Potter._

_Snape took the invisibility cloak off of himself and descended the stairs slowly, watching for any movements in the girl—but none came, to his alarm. As he moved closer, he could at least hear the laboured breathing of the girl. Snape felt relief wash over him. But along with that, he also noticed how her body was shivering and shaking in an unhealthy fashion. All that was draped around her prone form was a bloodstained and torn cotswol garment. Her legs were somewhat entangled together to keep the naked feet relatively warm._

_"Bloody fuckers!" He cursed in vengeance, under his breaths. All the conversations that he had heard among the Death Eaters rushed through his mind. They had discussed the captivity of the girl with demented pride._

_Snape slid out of his outer cloak and bent down to drape the warm garment around the girl. The action earned an immediate impact—Potter jerked awake and Snape found himself facing the haunted eyes of the teenager._

_The haunt quickly transformed to blatant mistrust, but Snape found consolation in the fact that the girl acknowledged him and was still in her right mind, despite the torment._

_"S-Snape..." In the breaking voice coming from her dry throat, the girl whispered, breathing hard._

_"Potter," he said in the lowest of his voice, "I have come to rescue y-" But before he could finish, the girl tried to move away from him, holding out her trembling finger to stop him. "Yo-you're...one'f...them..."'She breathed out._

_"I am not." He said clearly. "Potter, we do not have much time. We need to go before they are alerted."_

_With hard efforts, she shook her head, "No...you're..." But the speech and her attempt to move had drained her of all her energy, resulting in her eyes closing again. Snape watched as she laid on the cold, stone floor seeming almost lifeless and draped in his own cloak._

_He covered himself with the invisibility close again. He looked back to check for the last time but when he was sure the corridor was undisturbed, Snape finally gathered the girl gibgerly, and with no real effort, lifted the almost weightless body in his arms. Her head remained lolling against his chest. Potter remained unmoving save for her strained breathing. He adjusted the cloak to hide her from the view completely, as well. He quickly but quietly ascended the stairs to leave the basement._

_Merlin knew how long this basement will plague you, Potter._

_In the light of the lamps, he unconsciously noted the bruises on the girl's face and wondered what worse could they do if they were to get caught..._

_He walked down the corridor and left without making any ruckus. He decided to keep Bellatrix's wand with himself so as not to leave any trace behind. With Potter in her arms, it would be next to impossible to put up any fight if anybody found them. He doubted it would be wise to jostle her body much in case of a dual. He had no idea how injured the girl was, perhaps jostling her could cause more damage._

_Slow and steady, they entered the Main Hall of the Manor that led to the Entrance Passage, then finally led to the gates. Once they left the gates, Snape could apparate the girl back to Hogwarts. Some Order members were assigned outside the Manor, just in case. But they could not enter the Manor due to the wards. Some members including Poppy waited for them at the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, ready to provide immediate medical assistance to the girl and to himself, in the worst case._

_Another set of footsteps brought Snape to an abrupt halt. He stood very still, still in the Main Hall of the Manor. He waited as the footsteps came into closer proximity with him. Though hidden under the cloak, he tried to retrieve his wand from under his sleeve. The hustling caused Potter to whimper in pain—audibly enough._

_"Who's there!" Bellatrix's voice echoed through the Hall._

_Snape winced, cursing under his breath. Yet, he tried to remain silent, hoping that the mad woman would take it to be her delusion. Unconsciously, he tightened his hold on Potter, causing her to whimper again._

_"Who the hell's there! Answer me!" Bellatrix shrieked._

_Snape closed his eyes to calm his growing sense of agitation down. There would be no escaping without managing that fanstic woman first. With his wand clutched in his hand, he turned around. He slid the cloak as minimally as possible before sending a strong hex at the woman._

_Bellatrix shrieked in pain and_ _collapsed to the ground, looking around frantically to find the culprit. Snape watched as she groped in her pockets to retrieve her wand before her face screwed up in realisation. "My wand!" She shouted._

_Snape turned around to leave but before he could, more sets of footsteps came running at Bellatrix's screeches. Snape could not manage to fight multiple Death Eaters with Potter laying unconscious in his arms. If any spell hit her, her prone body would not be able to fight back._

_"Bella! What happened?" Snape heard Rodolphus Lestrange, skidding to a stop near his wife._

_"Somebody's here!" She exclaimed._

_"But I can't see anyone," the man said._

_"He's hiding, you idiot!" She yelled._

_"Who?" Rabastan Lestrange's voice, too, echoed in the Hall._

_"Give me your wand," Bellatrix said, getting to her feet. "Rabastan, go check on Potter. My wand's missing, someone must be here to take her away."_

_"But I can't open the door," he said._

_"Go and guard the door, you idiot! Stay there!" She shouted. The man retreated away immediately._

_Snape, meanwhile, took small and silent steps, walking towards the entrance passage. But a very distinguished groan from Potter had them almost exposed._

_"Stupefy!" Bellatrix's spell missed him by inches. Snape hurriedly stepped aside and changed his direction._

_"Potter's here! Potter's hiding somewhere here!" Bellatrix cried. "Inform the Dark Lord! Go!"_

_Rodolphus nodded and ran off to retrieve the Dark Lord. But as only Bellatrix was left to fight against, Snape took the advantage ot the opportunity. He slowly moved away from her line of sight and sent a series of hexes at her._

_Caught off guard, the woman fell face forward to the ground with a shriek. Snape, without wasting any time, walked away. But as he was about to enter the Entrance Passage, Potter let out a scream in agony. She began thrashing in his arm as if fighting an invisible force._

_"Potter! Potter, hush," Snape tried but it was as if her pain got worsened and her screams got louder. She tried to jerk away, resulting in Snape losing his hold on her. She fell to the ground, still screaming and shuddering, clutching her marked forearm with her other hand._

_"Ah, here you are, my sweet," the Dark Lord's cold voice reverberated behind him. Potter was left exposed, out of the safety of the invisibility cloak. Snape, who was still under the cloak, turned around to watch as Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand on his own forearm. That resulted in causing pain to Potter through the link of the Dark Mark. Behind him, his coterie laughed in entertainment. Snape felt sickened at the blatant display of torment._

_"You'll pay for disobeying My Lord, you little bitch!" Bellatrix yelled, pointing her wand at the seemingly unconscious Potter. "Crucio!" As the curse hit her, the girl screamed in agony, thrashing violently._

_Snape finally grabbed Potter out of the target of the curse and removed the cloak, showing himself. He covered the girl with the invisibility cloak, instead._

_"Severus," the Dark Lord drawled, emphasising on the 'S'._

_"I knew, My Lord, I knew this man is disloyal to You!" Bellatrix started bouncing in ecstasy._

_"Silence!" Voldemort shouted. Bellatrix quickly ceased her actions and stepped back. "Severus, you? And all this while, I thought you were so devoted to me." The voice was laced with malice but remained sardonically calm. "You have abused my hospitality."_

_Snape eyed the group warily, an idea playing in his mind. He could not afford to put up a full fledged fight with Potter to rescue... It would have to be surreptitious._

_"Never mind," the Dark Lord continued, "You will pay for your deeds."_

_"Reducto!" Snape screamed, pointing his wand to the ceiling above the Main Hall. The roof began juddering wildly, forming cracks. As bricks began falling on the four, Snape leaped to gather Potter up, still under the cloak, and ran down the Entrance Passage. The roof above him also began cracking, but he maintained the utmost celerity he could._

_He could hear the shouts of the four Dark wizards among the falling bricks. He held Potter firmly in his arms, ignoring her whimpers, and left the Passage. Snape hurried to the gates. By the time they reached the gates, Snape was completely drenched by the heavy downpour, but managed to keep Potter covered under the invisibility cloak. He spelled the iron gates open with his wand. As he stepped out of the enemy territory, a little shocked himself to still be alive, he breathed a sigh of relief._

_But without wasting another moment, he apparated themselves away, far away from the Malfoy Manor, to Hogwarts, with the girl laying oblivious in his grip._

*******THTP*****THTP**

"Did you give her any potions, Professor?" Healer Bronze enquired, waving her wand over the unconscious Potter girl.

"A potion to combat any infections due to the cut and a _Dreamless Sleep—Dosage medium_," Snape answered, standing by the bed in the sick room on which Potter laid.

"How many hours ago?" Bronze asked, looking into the magically conjured screens.

"Approximately fourteen hours now," Snape said, checking the clock. "The potion that I had administered to her remains in effect precisely for eight hours."

"And did she wake up in the middle of the night at all?" the Healer asked.

"No," Snape replied. "I had asked my house elf to remain here until Miss Potter wakes up."

"Okay..." She drawled, distracted examining the scans.

Snape looked down at Potter—who had been unconscious since last fourteen hours. Nothing seemed wrong with her except the circles under her eyes and the fading remnants of a small bruise near her lips. She appeared to be in nothing but a deep sleep. But Potter was not merely sleeping...

Snape had waited for the girl to wake up until ten in the morning. When she did not, he asked Lolly to wake her up. But the elf informed him that Miss Potter was not even stirring. For a while, Snape took it to be a blatant disobedience or another tantrum. But when he had tried to rouse her, Snape noticed that it was not natural... He then called Healer Bronze from St. Mungo's, immediately.

"The scans are...pretty much normal," she said. "The baby is fine, no problem there. There is nothing suggesting what might have gone wrong...physically." Snape gave the healer a look that said 'Is there anything that you know' but otherwise remained silent. "But maybe it could be, er...mental shock or as we call it, psychological shock, that might have caused her to faint last night and you mistook it for sleeping out of fatigue. That's a common mistake people make."

Snape folded his arms over his chest. "How to revive her?" He asked bluntly.

"Well... She should have been awake by now," the Healer said, again looking at the scans.

"Exactly." Snape said dryly.

"Professor, I know you think I'm not helping but I'm a gynec-healer, not a mind-healer..." she sighed. "I can tell if something's wrong with her body, not her mental state... And since all seems in order, I seriously find myself at a loss here."

Snape unfolded his arms and gave a curt nod. "I understand. Have you made the list of mind-healers that I had asked you to, Healer Bronze?"

"You can call me Rose," she said casually. "And I'm working on that list. I'll send it to you in a couple of days."

"Who am I supposed to seek advice from at this point?" He asked dryly. "No mind-healer has yet sworn to secrecy. I cannot let her remain unconscious for a couple more days."

"I can refer to you my brother for now," she offered. "We don't have to tell him that it's Giselle Potter we need help with. I'm quite sure he will help us without asking too many questions."

"That might do," he nodded pensively.

"But he's a Muggle psychologist," she added.

Snape restrained his urge to roll his eyes. "A Muggle?"

"Yes, I'm a Muggle-born..." She told him. "Shall I contact him?"

"Madam, a Muggle heal- doctor cannot treat a witch," Snape tried to keep his voice as much in control as possible. "Muggle medicines will not have any effects on a witch, whatsoever. I am sure you are cognisant of the mechanics there."

"I know," she said, a bit defensively. "But maybe what Giselle needs is not just a couple of medicines, maybe it's a therapy or something?"

"A therapy?" He raised his eyebrow.

"Like a hypnosis?" She said.

"Like _legilimency_?" He asked.

"Yes, something like that," she nodded.

"In that case, perhaps l_egilimency_ would aid Potter better," Snape murmured thoughtfully. Perhaps, the girl had withdrawn herself, hiding somewhere in the crevices of her mind.

"But who will do that?" Healer asked.

"I know a well-qualified _legilimens_," he lied. Snape never informed anyone that he could very easily invade people's mind—_better let_ _them stay off guard__._

"Is he trustworthy?" She enquired.

Snape gazed at her with covert annoyance. "Absolutely."

*******THTP*****THTP**

Severus sat on the paperclip stool beside Potter's bed. The girl laid very still in her unconscious state. An unhealthy pallor covered the girl's face, as if blood was leaving her face bit by bit. He remembered how Lily would also go pale when sick... But it was not the time to remember Lily—for she was gone, and her daughter laid unconscious. It was upto him to revive her...

He could only try _Legilimency_, not certain if it would work or not. If it did not, he would be compelled to consult a mind-healer.

He looked down at the girl—her scar seemed a bit red, but not how angry it was the last night. But red. She had bore it for fifteen years of her life... Fifteen years being marked, being destined to bring a stop to the longest war of the Wizarding history. To defeat the darkest wizard of all times.

Clearly, her parents would not have thought that the daughter they were giving their life for would be subjected to such a destiny. They would have wanted her to have a fulfilling life, jolly and blessed. Snape sighed, if they were watching her from the heaven, they might be rethinking over their decision of leaving their daughter in the hands of the Wizarding World.

Snape ran a hand down his face and pushed the thoughts beneath his shield. He withdrew his wand from his sleeve. He waited before casting the spell. The last time they were caught in a similar scenario, he had to suppress his urge to strangle Potter to death. But it was just a few months back, before the catastrophe of the Department of Mysteries and the abduction. Then, he did not care of what he'd find in Potter's memories, but now, he was a bit concerned.

Despite the conflicting emotions, he pointed his wand to Potter's head. "_Legilimens_!"

As Snape entered Potter's mind, the surface was lined with the recent episodes. He found himself standing in Potter's current room in the Prince Manor as the girl tried to mix the herbs in water. Next, he saw his own self, combating against Potter to get the custody of the shard of glass. He felt waves of desperation brush by him—Potter's desperation.

Next, the vision changed, landing him into the library of the Prince Manor where the girl had thrown the tray of Potions to the ground. He met with anger and frustration in that memory, as Potter tried to attain some sense of peace from the broken vials that laid by her feet.

The visions changed, mostly consisting of memories from the Prince Manor itself. Snape dug deeper, walking further into Potter's mind. Incoherent words passed by him and there was very little speech that he could comprehend amongst Potter's memories.

He saw as Potter, dressed in school robes, stole a kit of Witch's Pregnancy Test from the Hospital Wing. It gave him a sense of lucid fear and self-hatred. Snape dug deeper, looking for Giselle herself. She was hiding somewhere deep, probably captured in one of her own memories.

As more visions kept passing by, he searched and searched. After a long time, when the first brush of happiness touched him, he was compelled to stop. Snape found himself witnessing Potter as she flew on her broom—high and speedily, soaring through the air. The vision changed to the one in the Gryffindor common room. Potter was laughing at something along with Ronald Weasley, while Granger scowled at the two. Another memory of the trio stealing food from the kitchen touched Snape with impish glee. He saw as Potter and the Weasley clan took swigs of Muggle beer at the Grimmauld Place, hiding away from the adults in the house. It reflected youthful energy and excitement, mingled with the fear of getting caught. Snape also watched as a younger Potter shared memories with Granger and the Weasley girl, reading a magazine and giggling; a younger Potter sitting in Hagrid's hut and sipping tea, trying to hide the rock cakes away in her satchel with stealth: a little older Potter riding on a hippogriff; Potter stroking the feathers of a snowy owl; Potter snickering as Granger landed a punch on Draco Malfoy's face; Potter conjuring a Patronus—an elegant stag, sending away a slew of Dementors; Potter finding pristine love in Molly Weasley's embrace, Potter teaching a group of students how to send a _Stupefy_; and so on... Those memories reflected hope—a hope to live, a hope to thrive, a hope that was missing in her so desperately. The fact that those memories were so deeply buried in her mind that he had to dug considerably in concerned Snape...

He moved on. He watched and felt a sense of pristine ecstasy and comfort as Potter was getting trained by Lupin in conjuring a Patronus. But that ecstasy soon transformed to a distant coldness. Snape saw as the girl ran to hug her Godfather. There was no fear of touch in her, back then. Snape could sense the happiness clearly. But that memory led him straight to the the Department of Mysteries where a frantic Potter was screaming for her deceased Godfather, being held back by Lupin. Snape only felt misery and haplessness surrounding him.

Not willing to bear with the naked show of her affliction, Snape dug deeper. He was met with Potter talking to Cedric Diggory. He sensed the hesitant, shy flutter that Potter felt as she quite nervously conversed with the boy. Snape instantly recognised the feeling as it was akin to what he felt when he was with Lily, in his younger years. Similar to the previous memory, it also led him to a connected vision where Pettigrew's wand spelled the boy dead right in front of Potter's eyes. Snape felt the same sense of loss as he did when he had lost Lily...

From there, it was mostly a journey of cold, dark memories. As he dug deeper, flashes of Potter writing with a blood quill in Umbridge's office hit him. Snape waited to witness how Umbridge made the girl write 'I must not tell lies' again and again. The quill drew blood from the girl's own hand. He saw as the wound kept opening and closing until it could not close anymore. He gritted his teeth on the prospect that he had remained unbeknownst to the event even months after the woman's reign was over!

Further, some glances of a very young Potter looking at Petunia Dursley with longing brushed Snape with a child's need for comfort. But as he followed the trail to the Dursleys, he finally found himself closer and closer to finding Giselle. On the way, he found many instances of the girl's life at home to be consisted of either Potter getting screamed at by her family or the slightly happier ones where she was tending to the garden with expertise. Snape frowned at the bizarre arrangement of memories with no perspicacious link.

In a certain such vision, Snape was appalled to watch a younger version of Potter caressing a yellowing leaf to make it lively and green again. The happening seemed equally shocking to both, Potter and Severus. Snape was touched with surprise and glee, and watched as the girl tried the numinous skill further on drying leaves and flowers. Snape sensed Potter's bewilderment as the flowers bloomed at her touch.

_Nature magic_, Snape shook his head but without any malice. It reminded him strongly of Lily and the similar powers that she possessed as a child. But it was different that what Potter had—her skill could be of considerable benefit to her.

He came and stopped at Number four, Privet Drive. Snape recognised the house from investigating it on the night of Potter's abduction. He walked to a cupboard under the stairs, wondering what could possess the girl to hide herself in a broom cupboard.

He opened the door to find not the cupboard but the basement of the Malfoy Manor behind the door. Almost each detail of the dilapidated room was the same. Down the stairs, he spotted Potter sitting alone. Snape had somewhat expected to find the girl in a place like that but its connection with a broom cupboard was incomprehensible.

He walked to where the girl was sitting with her knees drawn and hiding her face behind her arms that were first wrapped against her legs.

"Potter," he called. But the girl seemed oblivious to his presence. Snape crouched down in front of her. "Potter?" But the girl remained unmoving.

"Giselle?" He tried. Instantly, she looked up, acknowledging him. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks still had tear tracks on them. In all those days, Snape had never seen the girl shed a single tear in person, but perhaps she did cry—in the remnants of her past. She looked at him with doleful eyes. Snape met with her tribulation and disconsolateness.

"What are doing here, P- Giselle?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

The girl stared at him for a moment, before replying, "I am locked up here..." Her voice sounded much softer than usual, and her words were much naive as she addressed him. Snape wondered if the Potter he was facing was a slightly younger version of herself inwardly. Or maybe that was how she truly was in private but Snape had only ever met two sides of the girl—an insolent student and a traumatised girl living in his house.

"No, you are not," Snape said. "Look, the door is open. I entered from that door." He kept his speech pellucid and his tone neutral.

She looked over his shoulders but shook her head. "No, it's not. Not for me."

"Who locked you here?" Snape asked, attempting to get an understanding of the girl's present mindset.

"Uncle Vernon," she replied.

"Do you know where you are right now?" Snape enquired. He was compelled to wonder why the girl would link her Uncle with her captivity.

"In my cupboard," was the simple reply.

Snape slightly frowned at the word 'my'. What could lead Potter to address a cupboard under the staircase as hers? "No, look around," he used a calm voice with her. "You are in a basement."

"Basement?" She asked, glancing around.

"Yes. Your Uncle _cannot_ come here," he clarified.

"Yes, it's that...that basement, isn't it?" She murmured. Snape sensed her fear intensifying at the realisation.

"You do not wish to be here?"

"No..." She shook her head.

"Then, come with me," Snape held out his hand. Potter looked at him for a moment before shaking her head again. "I can't..."

"Why not?" He asked, prodding her mind to take her to the conclusion of her internal conflict.

"Because...he wouldn't let me..." She whispered, looking down.

"Who wouldn't?" Despite knowing exactly where the girl was pointing to, he asked.

"He..." Was all the answer that came.

Snape was reminded of Potter's blunt use of the Dark Lord's name in their Occlumency lessons, without a shred of fear. "The Dark Lord?" He asked in a soft tone.

The girl nodded wordlessly.

"But he is not here, either," Snape said encouragingly. "You are _safe_."

"I'm not!" The timbre of her voice increased sharply. "He'll come here. He does, everyday..." Her breaths started coming in short as she offered a bleak narration to him. "And when he doesn't, he sends Bellatrix Lestrange to torture me. They won't let me leave..."

Snape found himself at a dearth of words. Hearing it coming from the girl herself left him with no counter arguments. It was the first time when Potter had so openly talked about what atrocities she went through in her captivity, even if only in her mind. "But I do not think anybody will come for you from here onwards-"

"They will... He will... He comes everyday despite what I say," she mumbled. "He'll catch me if I try to escape."

"Alright, then, I will stay here with you," he assumed a position beside the girl. "If anybody comes, I assure you I will...keep you safe."

"How can I trust you?" She asked in a murmur.

"I believe you do have reasons to trust me, considering the night when I did save you from the warewolf," he said simply.

Potter looked up at him with eyes that gave away no malice but a burning question. "Why didn't you save me from him?"

Snape was transfixed by her words. He had no answer to that naive question. The way Potter had delivered it left Snape to question his own self if there was any chance that he had missed to save the girl earlier than he did.

Potter let go a shuddering breath, with her eyes fixed in space. "He wants me to beg him to kill me. But I don't want to do it. How can I beg when my parents never bowed before him? I will never do that."

"So, you do not need to," Snape said reassuringly.

"But then...he does things, he hurts me... He puts me in body-binds, paralysed, and I can never...never fight him..." Her morose voice was reduced to a whisper.

Snape paused, comprehending the statement. The words that were spoken with such ease had a way deeper meaning to them. They were delivered by her without measuring the consequences of revealing the details of her captivity in front of him. Clearly, had it been Potter in person, he would have never been the one the girl chose to confide in. But in her mind, Potter was too vulnerable... "You can fight him," Snape said, hinting her of certainty.

"How?" She asked with desperation.

"You can free yourself of all his binds," he said.

"I can't, not now," she shook her head. "I'm already tainted."

Snape quirked his eyebrow at her choice of words. "No. You are certainly not."

"I am." She held out her arm and showed her the Dark Mark that covered her forearm. Albus had removed the Mark from her forearm immediately after Potter's arrival at Hogwarts. But inwardly, it seemed that the girl had never gotten rid of the tint that it left on her.

"If I remove this from your arm, will you come with me?" Snape asked, using stealth.

"You can't," she concluded.

"I very well can," the Potions Master said firmly.

"It's too deep to go," she kept her eyes fixed at the Mark.

"No matter," he said confidently. "I can remove it just as well, if you promise to come with me."

"If you can..." She mumbled dazedly.

"I can," he said with confidence. "But I require you to close your eyes and feel as I remove the Mark. Can you do that for me, P- Giselle?"

"Yes," she nodded, closing her eyes.

Snape held her arm, "The Dark Mark that you believe to be so deeply engraved on your arm can only reach as deep

into your being as you allow it to." He looked at her face, eyes shut and lips slightly agape. "And I can see how you have never allowed the darkness to seep in any further than a physical show."

"Show?"

"Tell me, child, do you believe in the Dark Mark?" He noted as the use of the epithet 'child' earned a reaction as Potter suddenly tipped her head forward, seeming more wary of his words.

"No," she replied.

"The Dark Mark can never taint you until you believe in the Dark Lord's ideologies and conform with him," he explained.

"I'll never do that," she murmured.

"Then removing the Mark is a facile job to accomplish," he pretended to wave his wand over her arm. "I am slowly erasing the head of the skull," he began. "Can you feel the head disappearing?"

After a pause, the girl nodded. "Yes."

_Too credulous, Potter. Question me further, how could you trust your Slytherin Professor?_ But she did, without a question. Snape watched as the skull started to fade away. It was Potter's own imagination that had created the world and the same imagination that was erasing it.

He continued, "Now, I am erasing the rest of the skull, including the sockets and cheekbones. Do you feel it?" As the girl nodded again, the Mark continued to fade. "Now, it is the jaw that is leaving your arm. Yes?" Potter nodded. "Now, slowly, the serpent is also leaving your arm, and along with that, it is eliminating its effects and connections with your soul."

"All your ties with the Dark Lord via this Mark are severed," he concluded. "Can you feel how the dark energy of the Mark leaves your body?"

"Hmm..." She nodded.

"Now, you may open your eyes," he told her.

Potter looked at her arm as a small, amazed smile played on her lips. She looked up at him, "Can you erase this scar, too?" She removed her hair from her forehead to expose the lightning bolt marking her forehead.

"I cannot," he said truthfully. "But you can—by fighting him."

"But I can never fight him..." She said glumly.

"I will train you to fight and win against him," Snape said assuringly.

"You will?" Potter asked with surprise. "You promise?"

Snape nodded. "Yes. If you agree to come out with me." He stood up and offered his hand.

Potter looked from his hand to his face with uncertainty. Snape registered the mistrust and fear in the girl's eyes and hoped that she would agree. Although judging by their history, he seriously doubted that. Potter had never trusted him—well, not she had a reason to. But then again, she had narrated a small but significant part of her experience to him.

Potter, after a long consideration, took the offered hand. Snape pulled her to her feet in a swift motion. She looked at him for a moment, "Why didn't you come for me before?"

Snape inhaled sharply. "I apologise for my delay, Giselle. I did try to come as soon as I could."

"It wasn't soon enough..." She mumbled, looking at her feet.

That struck Snape intensely. _Wasn't soon enough. No, it was too late, indeed. We have lost a lot of you, Potter, a lot in you. _"I know." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "But I assure you, I will not leave your side until you fight and win against whoever wronged you."

"Will you?" She again looked back at him with genuinely questioning eyes fixed at him.

"You have my word."

She nodded. Snape led her out of the basement quietly. Thankfully, the girl followed without stopping and Snape wondered just how gullible could she be to have put her trust in her most hated Professor? When they reached the door and stepped out, it was the same Dursley household.

They could hear the television from the other room. Snape watched by another of Potter's memory of that house—a young redhead girl, wearing clothes twice her size was peeping inside what seemed to be the living room, watching the television, with a cleaning rag in her hand.

"Giselle," he said, "I want you to lock the door so that you never have to enter the wretched place, and neither can anyone compel you to."

"Lock it?" She seemed at a loss. Yet, she pulled the door closed. "I can't lock it."

"Where is your wand?" Snape asked.

"They snapped it into two," Potter replied, eyeing him with the same horrified look on her face.

_An inch away from breaking, aren't you, Potter?_

"Yes, but you have a new wand now," he reminded her.

"I don't have a wand," she told him. "I can't fight him, can't lock the door..."

"Try with your hands, then," he suggested. Potter tried locking the door but ended up only fiddling with it. She quit trying too soon, "I can't do this..."

Snape withdrew his own wand. "Today, I will lock this door for you, but someday, Potter- Giselle, you will not need anyone to bring you back from places you do not want to visit." With that, he locked the door with magic. It was done to give the girl a mental reassurance that she would not go back to the basement, to provide her with a sense of security. But the measures were temporary, he knew. Another setback and Potter would again land up in the crevices of her dark past in no time, perhaps somewhere deeper the next time, and he was not sure if he would be able to rescue her again.

They walked out of the house, to the garden. A vision of a very young version of Potter, probably five or six-year-old. She was watching as a little boy ate an ice lolly, leisurely enjoying the summer. Petunia sat by the boy, coddling whom Snape assumed to be her son.

As they left the house, the pair met with thick, white fog. Snape took the cue and asked her, "Where would you like to go, Potter? To Hogwarts?"

"No! Not there!" She immediately refused.

"Why so?"

"Too many people...I just can't handle them..." She muttered mostly to herself.

_Social anxiety? _

"Then?" Without pressing on the matter, Snape asked. "Would like to come to the Prince Manor with me?"

"Maybe..." She said, contorting her hands. Snape noted how vulnerable Potter was if one were to look in her mind. The defiance that she portrayed was almost a facade, perhaps a shield to hide her vulnerability. He could see no sign of that charade in her mind. Potter was just how she truly felt currently—angst

Not a good sign but at the very least, he could draw a clear picture of the girl he was entrusted with.

"Let's try, then," he suggested. "Can you see the Prince Manor in the fog? Look closely."

Suddenly, as the girl imagined, the tall Manor appeared in front of them. Potter remembered each detail vividly and had created the very image of the house in her mind, despite seeing it only once, Snape noted—a helpful skill.

"Come." He led her to the gates which were already open. Snape took that as a positive sign. He opened the gates wider, "Would you like to come in?"

Potter waited by the gates for a moment and Snape feared a setback, but eventually she did agree to enter. He also sensed Potter's inclination towards the garden and noted to look into the matter. "As you come inside, Giselle, you feel free—free from the clutches of the past events, you feel fresh, you feel relaxed. This house does not expect you to be the Choosen One, this house only wants to meet Giselle, you, and will accept you with all your vulnerabilities, all your shortcomings, and will help you find your strength."

Behind him, Potter had a dreamy look on her face but her feet didn't stop. As they walked through the cobbled path, into the verandah, the fog thickened. As they opened the main door to enter the Manor, the fog submerged them—safely.

Snape pulled back from Potter's mind, returning to the sick room. Potter still laid in front of him, but her eyes were fluttering. Snape sighed, rubbing his temples. "Giselle?"

The girl opened her eyes, finally, and Snape noted that just like before, they were hard and dry. But at least, Potter was back.

_There lays a long road that we have to cover, Potter. _

*******THTP*****THTP**

**A/N**: Hey readers! Thank you so much for reading so far! And thank you soooooooooo much to all those who actually review my work! It always feels so good reading your lovely comments.

One of my Guests asked me if Snape and Giselle will end up as a family.

Well, you know this story is "Angst and Family" but I won't give away much right now. Though I have a lot of ideas for this story, I haven't decided exactly how they'll all end up, I mean there's a long way to go. But yes, there is going to be _**NO**_ romantic relationship between the two EVER, that's not how I see them. All I can tell you is that I won't disappoint my readers. :P Have a nice day!

And all of you, I hope everyone is safe and practising social distancing... No matter which country we belong to, it's a problem we all are facing today... So stay home, stay safe! :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Giselle-the protagonist, who is my creation.

**Summary**: Instead of Harry Potter, my story will have a female protagonist. I won't call her a typical female!Harry because she is different from him.

This story is **NOT** a SLASH or a romance between snape and my protagonis. So **don't** expect that... It has dark themes but the value of light comes from the lack of it!

My story revolves around Giselle Potter and her life after going through a terrible series of events. Broken and battered, stuck in an undesirable situation like never before. And who is assigned to 'aid' her? A certain dour Potions Master.

The story follows canon till OoTP, but not the followimg summer and thereafter.

**WARNING**: This story is rated M. It has themes of self-harm, physical abuse and rape (though nothing graphic in the early chapters). It has some amount of profanity, as well. No graphic description will be given without a prior warning.

**A/N**: At the end.

**THTP*****THTP*******

**Chapter 15: A Way To Go Forward**

_Dear Severus,_

_Healer Bronze wrote to me the other day, informing me of Giselle's reluctance towards getting medical care. I realised what you were referring to when you came to see me, about a mind-healer. I would advise you to go on as you have thought. Perhaps, you can prove to be of greater help to her that way. But don't forget, my boy, that the war is what she ultimately needs to be prepared for. _

_I wish you well. _

_-A. Dumbledore. _

Albus looked at the letter and gave a nod in satisfaction to himself. He folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope neatly.

"Fawkes," he called. The phoenix came and perched on his shoulder. "Please, deliver this letter to Severus for me," he said to the bird. It nibbled on his finger before taking the letter into its beak. The old Headmaster could not risk sending the letter by an ordinary owl in case a Death Eater were to track the movements. But Fawkes was too clever to fall prey to their nasty tricks.

He watched as Fawkes took its flight, vanishing with a sudden bout of fire. He slid the drawer to his study table open, picking the can of candies out. He needed sweets to remain calm at times when his mind worked too quick for his old heart, to fathom with the conclusions that he drew out of peculiar situations. Currently, his mind had to process guilt...

People were of the perspective that Albus Dumbledore did not know suffering. He smiled sadly at the thought. Suffering—he had an old relation with suffering...

Severus would probably only frown at the letter that he was sending. He had probably even started looking for an apt mind-healer for Giselle. Severus was not the one to follow Albus' rules, but the young man's discretion had often helped them. He had chosen the right man to prepare Giselle.

Albus popped a few candies into his mouth and kept the can back in. _Severus would help Giselle in ways that I could not. _If anybody could, it was Severus...

Albus closed his eyes leaning back into his seat, suddenly recalling the night his youngest employee retrieved Giselle from the very clutches of Tom Riddle...

*******THTP*****THTP**

_As per Albus' orders, Moody, Kingsley, Arthur and Tonks were standing on guard outside the Malfoy Manor. They were to send signals in case they needed more Order members to help them. In the Hospital Wing, he himself sat in Poppy's office, along with Molly and the medi-witch, anxiously waiting for Severus and Giselle to arrive._

_He had never followed any religion or prayed to any Gods, but that day, he wished he knew who exactly to address his prayers to..._

_He was well-aware of the dangers and the probability of their safe return... Severus had given them a brief idea of what to expect in the worst case scenario. If he could not make it, the War will be lost. But not only the War, Giselle and Severus, will be lost, too. And he did not think his old heart could handle more loss._

_Minerva entered the office, looking just as agitated. "My apologies, Albus. There was some ruckus in the Tower..."_

_"That is alright, Minerva," he said calmly. "We are only waiting. Have a seat."_

_The Deputy Headmistress sat beside Poppy. "Did they send any signals?" She asked. Albus shook his head silently._

_"I was thinking..." Poppy spoke. All of them turned to face her. "What if she needs to be taken to St. Mungo's? Or Severus, if he's too injured?"_

_"We cannot risk that, can we now?" Minerva sighed, looking at the Headmaster._

_"I will call more Healers from St. Mungo's, Poppy," he said. "I do have some trustworthy friends there."_

_"I hope we don't need any of that," Molly mumbled._

_"Where are the children?" Poppy asked suddenly._

_Minerva blinked at her before replying, "Oh, they are all in their common room. We have placed wards to indicate if anyone of them steps out for the night. Also, Filius and Panoma are on rounds along with Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris."_

_Just then, somebody knocked at the office door. Poppy leaped to her feet to open the door, followed by the others. The medi-witch pulled the door open but huffed. "You both?"_

_"Thank you for the warm welcome, Madam," Fred said._

_"Fred? George?" Molly went to the door, ushering the boys in while the others kept their seats. "Did you get any signals?"_

_"Nothing at all," George shrugged. "But Bill and the others are still on the castle gates."_

_"Professor," Fred said to Dumbledore, "Do you think we should check on them?"_

_Albus glanced at the clock. "No, not yet. We will wait."_

_"But what if they're in danger?" George frowned._

_"They are in danger," Dumbledore simply said, conjuring two chairs for the twins. They sighed and sat down._

_"Oh, Merlin!" Minerva huffed. "Somebody is out of the Gryffindor Tower."_

_"We'll go and check," the twins said almost in unison._

_"Keep them all in," Molly said. "Nobody is supposed to see Severus or Giselle as they come."_

_"Roger!" They strode out of the office hurriedly._

_Molly glanced at the clock with a worried look plastered on her face. "It's been hours since Severus went..."_

_"He had to attend a meeting first, Mrs. Weasley," Poppy reminded her. "That could have taken a little longer, perhaps."_

_"I hope so," the lady murmured, walking to the window. Rain drops tricked down the glass, making the view outside blurry. She forlornly caressed the cold glass, looking out._

_"Keep calm, Molly," Albus said politely. "Giselle will need you strong."_

_"And I will be right here for her," she mumbled, but with determination._

_The door to the office was pushed open again, but without a knock that time. Ron and Hermione stepped in behind the Weasley twins._

_"I should have known," Minerva muttered under her breath._

_"We are not leaving," Ron stated. But as Hermione nudged him, he added, "Professor."_

_"That is alright, Mr. Weasley," Albus said simply. "You may remain here."_

_"But, Albus..." Molly whispered from where she stood by the window._

_"We're not children anymore, Mom!" Ron retorted, getting the indication._

_"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, we...we know what worst to expect..." Hermione added._

_Molly sighed, turning to face the window again. Ron quirked an eye at his brothers, worried about his mother's resignation. The twins only shook his head._

_"Is there anything that we can help with when they arrive?" Hermione asked with sincerely._

_"Perhaps..." Albus said distractedly. He checked the clock again. He was stuck in a dilemma of whether to send a signal from their side to Severus, just in case.., But it could cause him unwanted trouble..._

_"What did you guys tell the other students why didn't Giselle return for the year?" Free asked._

_"Professor McGonagall told them that her Aunt is hospitalised, so she will return after a few weeks," Hermione told them. "The word is already spread."_

_"How long to wait for them?" Ron quietly asked his brothers._

_"Don't know," one of them replied._

_"I think I see someone there!" Molly suddenly cried._

_Albus pushed his chair away and strode to the window, followed by the others. Molly shifted to give him space. He peered out of the drenched glass—the visibility was very poor, but he could see a silhouette walking to the Gates. From inside, he watched as the other Order members rushed to the gates, too, and opened them._

_"Poppy, prepare two beds, Minerva, send a word to Moody that they have arrived," he commanded, striding out of the office, to the Hospital Wing._

_"Fred, George, help them up!" Molly ordered, rushing to help the medi-witch._

_Albus waited anxiously at the door of the Infirmary for them to arrive. He did not know if both of them had returned or... But he kept those thoughts away for the time being._

_"Will she be okay?" Albus heard Ron ask. "Pray," Hermione replied._

_Pray... _

_His head shot up as he saw Severus running up the stairs, carrying a seemingly unconscious Giselle in his arms. Water dripped from their clothes, making a trail. Behind them, the others followed._

_"Severus!" Albus could not control himself further and called. He ran a wrinkled hand down his beard. The others came and stood right behind him._

_"Move! Move!" Severus began shouting even before entering the infirmary. Everyone, including the Headmaster, moved to give them way._

_"Bring her here, Severus," Poppy called, standing by a bed._

_As his Potions Master passed by him, carrying the girl, Albus saw a glimpse of her bruised face. He heard Hermione and Ron gasp as the pair passed by them._

_"Sweet Merlin!" Poppy cried as Severus gingerly laid the girl on the bed. Molly rushed to the bed, clutching her mouth._

_"Jesus Christ!" Hermione's voice broke._

_"Away, everyone!" Poppy ordered, drawing the curtains, leaving everyone except Molly out._

_Albus did not dare to see Giselle... Not after hearing the verbal response the others gave. He ducked his head and turned away from everyone, stepping out of the infirmary._

_He was vaguely reminded of his sister, Ariana. When she was retrieved after the attacks that those Muggles had perpetrated, her eyes were wide open in shock with tears rolling down her pale, bruised cheeks._

_That night, he had lost the sister he knew._

_"Albus." Severus' raspy voice startled him. Dumbledore turned to face his employee._

_"How did...it go?" He asked, eliminating any other emotion that he felt._

_"My covers are blown," he told him in a tone that hid a lot behind its neutral charade._

_"But for a cause," Albus simply added. "Very well down, my boy."_

_"We were too late," Severus said, eyeing him._

_"But she is alive," Dumbledore said as matter-of-fact._

_"Is that all you wanted?" He hissed._

_"That was the least I could expect." The Headmaster patted Severus' shoulder. "Are you injured?"_

_"I am fine," he spat, turning away and back inside._

_Albus closed his eyes, leaning against a wall._

_Ariana... _

_Flashes of the little girl with terrorised eyes plagued him. He opened his eyes and sighed resignedly._

_When he heard the curtains drawing back, Albus went inside._

_"I want everybody to leave," Poppy ordered. "Professors can stay. Rest everyone, out."_

_"But how's she?" Ron demanded._

_"She will be fine if you let her rest," Poppy said sternly. "Please, cooperate and leave."_

_"Come, Ron," Hermione whispered, a knowing look in her eyes. He led him out, followed by the others—none of whom protested._

_Albus could hear Molly murmuring some soothing words to Giselle from behind the curtains. Minerva stood with Severus near a bed, looking morose._

_"Poppy?" Albus asked._

_The medi-witch shook her head. "Tortured under a number of dark curses, including the Cruciatus... She has the...Dark Mark on her forearm, too."_

_"Yes, yes, Severus had told us about that," he nodded but Minerva interrupted, "And?"_

_Poppy glanced at the drawn curtain, "And raped—several times."_

_Nobody spoke, nobody could. Horror flashed through Minerva's face and something akin to cognisance through that of Severus. Albus, however, remained transfixed._

_Silence was broken by Minerva's dreaded hiss of "Sweet Merlin!"_

_Albus noticed as Severus clenched and unclenched his fists, thriving hard to keep his expressions smooth._

_"Can I see her?" Dumbledore asked._

_"She's unconscious, but..." She nodded, stepping aside. He opened the curtain slightly to see Giselle laying still on the bed as Molly stroked her hair, tears leaking out of her eyes. Giselle's pale face bore marks and bruises, adding on to the scar on her forehead, also given by Tom Riddle._

_He wanted to tell the child how truly apologetic he was, but could not bring himself to..._

_Severus and Minerva stepped behind him. "The Dark Lord can control her through the Mark," the Potions Master informed him. "It needs to be removed." At that, Molly looked up at him with teary eyes. "How?"_

_"I can do that," Dumbledore said in a low whisper._

_"Don't cause her more pain that she is already in," she said almost pleadingly._

_"I will try."_

_Poppy folded up the sleeve of Giselle's gown, revealing a wretched Dark Mark on her pale skin. Behind him, Minerva inhaled sharply._

_Albus pointed his wand at the skull and serpent that corrupted her being. "Hold her," he asked the two woman. The two glanced at each other before Molly restrained her shoulders and Poppy her legs._

_"Tenebris Tollere!" He muttered, pressing the tip of his elder wand into her skin. As red light left his wand, the light shreds covered the Mark completely._

_Giselle screamed. She gave a heart wrenching scream, trying to wriggle away. Minerva, too, helped the two women to keep Giselle still. Her screams intensified as Albus' magic began to erase the Mark from her arm._

_"It's almost done, dear," Molly kept muttering soothingly to her._

_Tears of agony rolled down her temples and her face remained scrunched in excruciating pain that racked her body. When screams suddenly subsided, Giselle's body went into a violent seizure. But Dumbledore could not afford to stop the procedure in the middle._

_"What is happening?" Molly asked in concern._

_"Keep your hold tight," Poppy did not answer._

_He heard Severus cursing behind him before walking away for a bit. He returned with a spoon in his hand. Albus watched as Severus, somehow, opened her mouth and slid the spoon between Giselle's teeth as her seizure continued._

_"Is this normal?" Minerva asked, eyeing Severus. The Potions Master nodded sullenly._

_Finally when Giselle's forearm was left clean of the Dark Mark, Albus lifted the spell. Her arm bore a nasty, red scar but it was harmless._

_"Give her an Anti-Seizure, quick!" Severus demanded._

_Poppy summoned a vial from the cupboard. She spelled the potion into her system with expertise. Gradually, the seizure subsided, leaving the girl drained. Her limp body laid almost lifeless. Molly summoned a cool washcloth and began gently soothing it over Giselle's tearstained face._

_"Oh, child..." Molly stroked her hair comfortingly._

_Albus gave one last glance at her before looking away. Nothing had reminded him of Ariana more... He felt guilty for indulging in his own sorrows when that of Giselle's were simply incomparable..._

_"I think, we all must take some rest," he said hastily, turning away. As he left the Hospital Wing, nobody interrupted him._

*******THTP*****THTP**

Snape pulled back from Potter's mind, returning to the sick room. Potter still laid in front of him, but her eyes were fluttering. Snape sighed, rubbing his temples. "Giselle?"

The girl opened her eyes, finally, and Snape noted that just like before, they were hard and dry. But at least, Potter was back.

She peered at him, befuddled, before a sudden realisation struck her.

"Welcome back, Potter," Snape muttered, getting to his feet.

"What the-" Giselle bolted up, eyeing Snape who himself got to his feet. "What did- You invaded my memories—again!"

Snape folded his arms over his chest. "A pleasant way of expressing gratitude."

"Who gave you the right!" The timbre of her voice increased by the last word.

"I have had enough drama for a day, Potter," he said smoothly.

"You tricked me! How could you trick me!" She shouted. "You manipulated me!"

"I merely retrieved you, revived you," Snape remained calm, his voice sounding banal.

"You did that deliberately!" She said accusingly.

"Of course," Snape drawled. "I do nary a thing without purpose."

She regarded incredulously. "Why would you- You're a...you're a...horrible person, Snape!"

"I do get that a lot," he said smoothly.

"I don't wanna be here—not for another moment!" She declared. "I wanna go back to Hogwarts!"

"Oh, but I believe that is not what you said when I asked you just a moment ago," Snape leaned against the wall, arms still crossed.

"Who gave you the right to invade my memories!" She shrieked. "Have you got no ounce of shame?!"

Snape raised his eyebrows, "Says the one who trespassed into my pensieve?"

"You did it as a revenge?" She said exasperatedly. "What a terrible person you are! Christ!"

"I cannot stoop so low, sorry to disappoint you," he said casually.

"I hate you! I so fucking hate you!" She started groping around the bed. "Where's my wand?"

"I have it," he said casually.

"I want my wand back," she demanded.

"Do you think that after pulling the little stunt yesterday, you deserve to keep it." Snape said slowly and smoothly. When Potter opened her mouth to speak, he said, "It was rhetorical question, Potter."

"But that's my wand! You can't keep it!"

"Oh, but I can." Snape drawled.

"You!" She looked around frantically before grasping a pillow in her hand. She threw it at Snape forcefully.

Snape stopped it midair, without even his wand. He made sure to plaster a bored look on his face. "Really, Potter? What are you? A toddler?"

"I HATE YOU!" She shrieked, throwing another pillow—which, too, met with the same conclusion at his hands.

"So you have said," he kept his voice calm.

"Who asked you to interrupt me last night?!" She accusingly said. "Who do you think you are to decide for me."

"It would have been quite distasteful to find a corpse in my house the first thing in the morning today." He said.

Potter shook her head in disbelief. "I do not want to be in your house. I am leaving."

"And going where exactly? To hire a room at the Leaky Cauldron like you did the year a murderer was after you?" He said with his eyebrows raised.

"What are you? A stalker?" She spat.

"A vigilant _stalker_, yes, who saved your friends and you from your pet warewolf," he said slowly.

"Wow, great! So now it seems you've taken it upon yourself to be my 'protector'," she rolled her eyes in spite.

_Precisely_. 

"You have an hour to tend to yourself. I expect you in the garden, then," he ordered. "Lolly will bring some food to your room. Which reminds me to inform you that I have reinstated the wards on your room to allow me entrance at any given time. The rest is just as it was."

"I don't take orders from you." Potter retorted, laying back on her bed, and pulling the covers well over her head.

"You will, if you desire to, ever, get custody of your wand," he said smoothly.

"Go to hell, Snape." He heard the muffled words before turning back, unaffected. "And, Potter, do not be late. A conversation is in order."

He stalked out of the sick room, weaving in his mind how exactly he was about to begin the said conversation.

*******THTP*****THTP**

Giselle sat with her head resting on top of her knees. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, providing her some kind of defence against her own thoughts.

The glass of the window was cold to the touch but as she leaned her forehead to it, it provided some relief to the slight burn in her scar. The aroma of chicken stew protruded her nostrils and her stomach gave signals of its need to eat but as always, she had no appetite, whatsoever.

If only the nosy Potions Master hadn't interfered with her plans, she would have been free...

She looked back at the wall where the goblet full of her herbs was tossed to—the place was spotless. Snape had spelled most of the things unbreakable in her room, not that she had the energy to check for herself, but she could feel the magic lingering on the new mirror in her bathroom, as well as on the window.

She begrudgingly wondered what obsession could the man have with saving her life! It was not his job to keep her alive! It was not like had something happened to Giselle, Dumbledore would have blamed Snape. Then, she suddenly felt very awkward at that thought. She owed him for saving her life, didn't she?

"No way!" She muttered to herself. Snape could never understand her plight—not that she expected him to, anyway.

Giselle closed her eyes to stop the flow of thoughts. It was too painful to think on those lines because whenever she did, she met with a deadlock. She could see no future for herself. The idea of carrying on in a life that posed so many challenges threatened her, so much so that it became hard to breathe.

Life had always posed challenges, but the kind of hopelessness that she possessed now was not present before.

She looked up, at the wall clock. It was around half past five—she was twenty minutes late in meeting Snape in the garden. _Twenty minutes were good enough to make him understand I still didn't follow his commands. _But with that thought, she finally made her way out.

Leaving the fire burning in the hearth and her food untouched on the table, she left her room. It was only her wand for which she was going. It irked her to no limits to think of Snape tormenting her in ways like those.

When she finally did step out of the main door, into the verandah, Giselle unconsciously took a deep breath in the open. She vaguely realised that since coming to the Manor, she had not once gotten out. Giselle loved the green, and it was almost disturbing to think how she had not once felt the need to leave the four walls of the Manor.

She had first come to terms with gardening on Aunt Petunia's demand of her to tend to the garden at Number Four, Privet Drive. It had started like a chore, the first of many. But soon, it had become more of a catharsis than a chore. Just like flying—which, too, she had not indulged into since Umbridge had banned her from Quidditch.

She looked around to find Snape sitting on the cemented patch, by the marble fountain. His face was hidden behind the Potions Journal that he read. Giselle crossed to where he was leisurely enjoying himself sitting on the cane-chair, while Giselle was losing her temper.

She strode to Snape and stood in front of him with her arms crossed to her chest. But the Professor never rose his head from the Journal. Giselle was pretty sure that all the noise that she was deliberately making with her feet was enough to disturb him but the man was ignoring her on purpose.

"Give me my wand back." She made it sound like a command.

"With an attitude like that, do not expect me to entertain your wishes," he said in a calm voice, from behind his Journal.

Giselle huffed. "Alright. _Please_, give my wand back." She was eyeing the man with hot loathe.

"Sit down, Potter," he gestured towards the chair opposite his, finally keeping his Journal down beside a small plant that was kept on the table in an earthen pot.

"My wand," she held out her hand in clear defiance, refusing to follow any order that he gave.

"You heard me, Miss Potter," he spoke in the same calm tone that infuriated Giselle even further. "Improve your attitude before demanding anything."

She took her hand back, reclaiming her previous posture with folded arms. "Who do you think you are to confiscate my wand!"

"The owner of the house where you tried to perpetrate suicide," with acerbity lacing his tone, he said in a smooth fashion.

"It was not _suicide_," she said defensively. "I had reasons—still have. And I don't expect you to understand, anyway."

"Oh, I see," he said mockingly. "But I insist that you make me understand exactly why you are after claiming your life, as it was not the first time you have tried the said act, if my memory serves me correctly."

"Listen, Snape, I am compelled to stay here does not mean that I have to tell you anything that I do." She stated.

"Compelled by whom, exactly?" He raised his eyebrows.

To that, Giselle had no convincing reply. That point always ruled over all her claims and negated them. Because she, herself, had consented to stay in that house! She, instead, fixed her gaze on the plant on the table and vaguely registered the dry mud in which it was rooted.

"Sit down, Potter," he said, ignoring the previous question. "We have a long conversation in order."

"I'm fine here." She said bluntly. At the back of her head, however, she knew that she was being childish at best. Sitting down and having a civilised conversation and then taking her wand back was a way better option, also due to her head that still felt fuzzy.

"Alright, remain standing for all I care," he rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair himself. "Miss Potter," Snape began, sounding professional, "How do you feel about the act that you pulled last night?"

Giselle stared at him for long minutes, examining the other connotations of the question, before replying. "What do you want me to say? That I felt badly about it?" Snape sounded like an elementary school headmaster enquiring children after they had pulled some mischief in class.

"Feel _bad_."

"Huh?" She narrowed her eyes in question.

"One does not feel 'badly', Potter, one feels 'bad'," he said casually.

Giselle rolled her eyes, "Alright, then. I don't feel 'bad' about it, anyway."

"So how do you feel?" Snape remained his voice low.

Again, she stared at him before answering, "I regret."

"Do you?" Snape challenged.

"I regret not having finished what I meant to do." Giselle's voice was laced with defiance.

"Enlighten me, Miss Potter," he sat upright, leaning a bit forward, "What exactly it was that you were expecting to accomplish by consuming those herbs?"

"You exactly know what I want," she said flatly—unapologetically.

"To take your own life? Yes, I am aware of your motives," Snape said smoothly.

She eyed him straight but only for a moment, "Not my life."

"Oh? Then?" Snape said sarcastically. He tilted his head slightly sideways, as if examining her.

"Is that why you've called me? To harass me with your stupid questions?" She said, gritting her teeth. The man was deliberately being a bastard, compelling her to indulge in the uncomfortable conversation.

"No, Potter, I can do that almost anywhere," he said casually. "I wanted to merely converse with you so as to reach a consensus."

She quirked her eyebrows in question but waited for him to elaborate.

**_THTP_THTP**

"The Headmaster requests that I train you, Miss Potter, for the upcoming battle," he began. "He would like you to be trained in nonverbal defences and offences, in shielding yourself, in throwing powerful curses, as well as in attaining a fluency in spells that are prohibited to be used by the Ministry. He wants you to attain the extensive training and knowledge that you require to fight in the battle—so as to win." He paused. Snape took a moment to observe the girl who seemed wary. When he did stop, she looked up from where her eyes were struck to her hands, wordlessly expecting him to continue. Satisfied that his words were not falling to deaf ears, again, Snape continued.

"And I, Potter, can also enlighten you with the exact methods the Dark Lord and his cabal will doubtlessly use in the war." By then, Snape's voice had adapted a mysterious aura. "Each spell, each hex that they use, I am well versed with. Some of them, I have trained in my days as a spy."

"You have?" Potter was gaping somewhat floored.

"Yes." Was the clear reply.

"Why would you...do that?" Her face screwed and Snape could tell how she was judging him—something that most of the people did after hearing of his past.

"I was a double agent, Potter." That was all the allusion Snape needed to give. Potter nodded in weary acknowledgment. "I can be of pivotal help to you, but why would I waste my time on you if you eventually are planning to claim your own life?"

"Why'd you waste your time on me, anyway, Professor?" She never met his eye—a habit, Snape surmised after noting her behavioural patterns for quite a few days.

"Because deny as much as we would like, you are destined to bring an end to the war," Snape said clearly.

"Destined? Yeah, right." She murmured bitterly. Potter pointed at the tumbler kept on the table. "Can I?" Snape gestured for her to continue. She poured some water in the goblet but instead of drinking it, she poured it in the pot, watering the plant. Snape narrowed his eyes at her. "It was drying up..." She mumbled.

"I am told that you are acquainted with what the Prophecy said," Snape said.

"Just because some dumb and overrated Prophecy says that I can send the bad guys away, doesn't actually mean that I can." Potter shrugged.

"Yes, correct," he agreed. "But that also does not claim that you cannot."

"Anyone can, then, why just me?" She folded her arms in a defensive posture. "Why don't you ask Neville to do it, instead. Maybe the Prophecy was about him all along and you've all _Chosen_ the wrong _One_."

"But I surmise, Potter, it was you and not Mr. Longbottom who-"

"Survived the Killing Curse? It wasn't me, it was my Mum," she said exasperatingly.

"...Who fought that halfwit Quirrell, the Basilisk, the dragon, the Dark Lord in the graveyard," he drawled, adapting a bored tone. "Remind me if I forgot to mention some of your achievements."

"Yeah, you did," she said coldly. "You forgot to mention me fighting your Dark Lord in the Malfoy Manor and how I bravely and strongly defeated him and killed his Death Eaters and flee the Manor. That one was an important achievement, yes."

"I can, although, remember something on the similar lines that happened in the graveyard and the Department of Mysteries," he countered.

"Yeah, when I got two innocent people killed," she laughed without humour. "Some achievement it was."

"If you tell me you have survivor's guilt, Potter-"

"Won't you have it after getting four people killed—who were trying to save you!" She exclaimed.

"No," he said simply. "I would not disrespect their sacrifice by digging myself into self pity."

Potter glared at him with anger, breathing hard. She opened her mouth to say something but restrained herself. She pursed her lips tightly.

"Speak."

"It's easy for you to say, but only if you were in my shoes, even for a minute, you would have understood the reasons behind everything that I ever do!" By the end, she was nearly shrieking. "I want to go back to Hogwarts!"

"And do what?" He quirked his eyebrow.

After a long pause, she finally spoke, "If you think that I can—still—fight and win, lemme remind you how well I protected myself against Vol- _him_ in that Manor!"

"Can you tell me, Miss Potter, what were the reasons you could not defend yourself there?" He maintained a neutral tone.

She cocked head, gazing at him in disbelief. "It's quite clear really, isn't it? He's a very strong dark wizard and I...I couldn't...his spells- No, wait! I didn't even have my wand then so there was no point, anyway."

"Yes, exactly," he said, sitting back in his chair. "So what is that skill that would have aided you, had you been-"

"Wandless magic!" The girl nearly shrieked. She covered her gaping mouth with her slightly shaking hands. "If I knew wandless magic...I wouldn't have to...go through... How did I never notice!" When green eyes rose to meet the Professor's, they were filled with a haunted realisation and very bleak traces of hope.

_The first sign. _

"Do you want to learn the subtle skill of wandless magic, Miss Potter?" Snape raised his eyebrow.

"You can...teach me?" In a very small voice, Potter asked. Snape noticed her contorting her hands.

"I assuredly can," he said smoothly. "But the question is—why would I?"

Potter frowned, "But you just said-"

"I said, Potter, that why would I waste my time and energy on somebody who does not as much as respect her own life? Why would I teach you, Potter, if tomorrow you claim your life, thus leading all my efforts into nowheresville."

"I was not trying to kill myself!" She exclaimed.

"Perhaps that was not your primary intention, but you were foolish enough not to examine the effects of your actions." He stated smoothly. "Or did you not as much as cared that your actions would have cost you your life!"

**_THTP_THTP**

"I was forced to remedy my problem because you all failed!" She spat accusingly. "If your World is so incapable to handle something as easy as an abortion, let me find help in my ways!" Right after finishing the sentence, realisation drew on her face. She averted her eyed to the ground, again. _SHIT! _She had never spoke so openly about...the _problem_ to anyone... She had no intentions of opening up to Snape—whatsoever!

"Sit down, Potter." It did not come out as an order. With a sigh, she finally sat down.

"Perhaps, I should explain to you why exactly did we fail," he began. "Potter, what do you know about the Magical Core?"

"It's where our magic comes from," she mumbled tersely.

"Oversimplified, but correct," he said. "Every child who is born a witch or wizard, do possess that Core. The Magical Core starts to develop in one's body from the very point of conception. But a child is ready to use magic in a full-fledged fashion only about ten years after the birth—when the Magical Core attains considerable majority. Before that, all a child shows are the signs of accidental magic."

She nodded, vaguely stroking her the leaves of the small plant. All that Snape was telling her was at some point repeated by Hermione, she was certain.

"But some children are very powerful, since even before birth," Snape explained. "Their Magical Cores are too developed from the beginning, thus giving them a benefit over the others. There were only a handful of cases reported in the Wizarding World so far."

"What are you trying to say?" She asked rather bluntly, finding herself at a loss.

"I am trying to establish that, Potter, a child so excessively powerful as yours cannot be terminated." He concluded.

"It's NOT mine!" She shouted, looking directly at him. Her face took up a greenish hue at the mere mention of it. The feeling of being trapped overpowered her again. "I want to get rid of it!" She furiously hit the tumbler with hand, throwing it on the ground.

"Potter-"

"Just answer me, Snape, can you help me get rid of it?" She asked in a fiercely low voice. "I will do whatever training you want, I won't hurt myself, I'll even fight in whatever battle Dumbledore tells me to, just get me rid of it!"

**_THTP_THTP**

Snape studied the desperation in her voice. "Do you not see a _reason _to fight the battle other than the Headmaster's wishes?"

"Right now, I don't see any reasons." She said firmly. "Will you or will you not help me?"

"If I agree, will you-"

"Yes!" She said in desperation even without hearing him out. Snape could see the beginning of a panic attack.

"Alright, Potter," he said calmly. He set the tumbler back on the table and offered a goblet to the girl. "I do have an idea." At that, her eyes set on him with hope. She even took the offered goblet unconsciously.

"What? Is there a way?"

"I'm afraid, there is no way to eliminate the...foetus at this stage, but I can help you give the child up for adoption once it is born," he offered. Somewhere, he regretted putting up such an offer altogether...

"Why am I supposed to suffer for months because of something I'm not responsible for!" She slapped the table with her hand in frustration.

"Because there is no other choice that you have," he said. "Understand this, Potter, the death of the child will mean your own demise, and I doubt you would want to, so blatantly, disrespect your mother's sacrifice for you and die without avenging what the Dark Lord did to your parents and to your own self."

That took time to sink in. Giselle had unconsciously taken to stroking the leaves of the plants while contemplating what Snape had said. She could never think in those lines in times of desperations. When the reality of her situation hit her, she lost the more logical edge of her thoughts, driving into the more reckless measures. "Can't my magic protect me if..."

"When Healer Bronze tried the procedure of magical termination at Hogwarts, you started having seizures," Snape told her. Giselle was unaware of what actually had happened to cause them to stop the procedure. "That was the result of the child's magic trying to save itself, fighting against that of the Healer. The two forces worked against your body, thus the seizures. Meanwhile, your own magic was unable to fight against either of the forces."

"Yeah, right, even that bloody thing is stronger that I am." She muttered bitterly, not expecting Snape to hear it. But he did. In turn, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and peering at her carefully, "Do you know, Potter, why is it that the child has extensive powers?"

"Because it has Dark powers that are way stronger that what I can ever have!" She spat. Anything of that monster would be as dark as his soul—that thought threatened to bring a bout of nausea.

"Dark powers? I hope you do not think that Dark Magic is inherited by wizards." he raised an eyebrow.

Giselle looked up at him questioningly.

Snape rolled his eyes, "It is not inherited. Dark Arts are skills to be learnt, by a person himself. A child does not possess Dark Magic, Potter."

"Then why is it so difficult to get rid of it?!" She demanded.

"Because of the parentage of the child," Snape explained. Giselle only frowned. "How many wizards or witches do you know who have chased a thousand dementors away at the age of...thirteen?"

When her frown deepened, Snape huffed, "You are a very powerful witch, Potter, if you come to use your powers in the most beneficial way possible. And as for the Dark Lord-" Giselle cringed, "-it is needless to say the sane for him."

The mere prospect of it made her sick. "So you're telling me that other than giving it up when it's...here, there's nothing more that I can do?"

"Yes," was the simple reply.

"Alright, then, I want to get rid of this...thing the moment it's here." She declared.

"Potter, I will keep my side of the bargain, only if you keep your side," he said. "I will help finding a suitable party to adopt the child if and only if, you agree on getting the training I intend to give you and you give me your word that you will not attempt to claim your life again."

"Fine." She instantly agreed. "But you have to keep your side, no matter what anyone else says—even Dumbledore!"

Snape narrowed his eyes, "Why would the Headmaster interfere in your personal choices?"

"Because he has always interfered, hasn't he?" Giselle muttered, unapologetically.

**_THTP_THTP**

Snape frowned at the unabashed manner in which the girl had accused Albus. But it did not come as a shock. With the insensitivity Albus had shown to her in the past years, how long did he think she would follow him blindly?

Potter was no longer eleven, a naive child in the Wizarding World. She did have an understanding that the Headmaster had his own motives due to which he had been manipulating her into living her life on the lines established by him. But Snape had warned the old man, several times, that the girl would soon open her eyes to his blatant manipulations if he did not change his ways.

"Nobody can manipulate me into that, be assured." He said firmly.

"I have some demands," she said. Snape quirked his eyebrow at her in question. "I will not be...burdened with the responsibility of it from the very moment it's here. It'll be sent away, far away from here, where I _never_ come in contact with it. I don't care who takes it, they should be under the oath of secrecy about...my involvement... In short," she released a sharp breath, "I want nothing to do with it—ever."

Snape efficiently covered the sudden flash of shock that crossed his mind at the vindictiveness of that statement. But he could not whole-heartedly blame the girl, in truth. Potter was only sixteen. "Alright." Snape said. "In return, you will follow my instructions, Potter. I give you my word, all I will ever ask you to do will only be in your favour. I will never require you to do something that would bring harm to you."

Potter looked at him and nodded. "Do we have a deal?"

Snape saw the refreshing flash of determination and a tinge of hope in the otherwise empty eyes. "Indeed."

**A/N**: A reader, **weirdhead**, asked me if Giselle will have a romantic partner in the story. So, here's a reply to that: Yes, Giselle will have one. I have all of it planned out. But it will take some time. The romantic partner WILL NOT be Severus, of course. But somebody else—from canon. I won't reveal who. But I'm pretty sure you will like it! :)

**And to all the others who have reviewed my work, thanks a lot!**

Thanks for reading! Have a good day! :)


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